“Tinsel Travel, this is Elaina.”
“I spoke too soon,” Kimber said without preamble. “Something came up at work. Is it possible to get me on a later flight to Singapore?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish.”
The clicking of a computer keyboard sounded in the background. “Let’s see, you and Gil are booked from Atlanta to Houston to Moscow, with a layover in Moscow before flying on to Singapore, then to Maldives.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Kimber murmured, chewing on her nail and throwing up a prayer.
A couple of minutes later Elaina said, “Okay, the good news is there’s one seat available on a flight leaving from Atlanta three hours from now.”
“Great!”
“The bad news is that it’s in coach and you’d be connecting in Chicago, then Hong Kong before going on to Dubai.”
“Dubai?”
“From there you’ll take a puddle jumper to Maldives.”
“I can’t even travel to the islands with Gil?”
“No, but the good news is that Dubai is actually closer to Maldives than Singapore, and you’ll have shorter layovers, so you might even get to the islands before him.”
“Oh, that’s…not awful,” she said, her mind racing. At least his patience wouldn’t be tried further by having to wait for her there.
“I’m afraid it’s the best I can do,” Elaina said.
“Okay,” Kimber said in desperation. “Book me and text me the details.”
“I’ll have to make separate arrangements for a local flight from Dubai to the Maldives, and that could take a while, so call me when you land in Dubai.”
“Thanks, sis.” She disconnected the call and steeled herself before phoning Gil. He answered immediately.
“Where are you? I’m already seated on the plane!”
“I’m so sorry, hon—I’m still sitting in traffic.”
“This is a disaster,” he said, and she pictured him jamming his hand into his hair.
“It’ll be fine. I just talked to Elaina and she got me on alternate flights.” But when she explained that he’d be connecting in one continent, and she in another, a strangled noise came over the line.
“Kimber, I can’t believe you managed to mess this up. This is no way to start a vacation. I’m so irritated!”
“I know,” she soothed, knowing his blood pressure had spiked. “And I’m sorry we’re not traveling together. When I get to the airport, I’ll text you my new itinerary. And I’ll be waiting for you in the Maldives with a cold drink.”
“Okay,” he groused. “But I’m not happy about this.”
“Me, neither,” she said, not wanting him to be in a bad mood when he proposed. “But everything’s going to work out fine. You’ll see. I love you.”
He sighed. “I love you, too.”
She ended the call, antsy and sick to her stomach for foiling Gil’s plans. It was sweet of him to go to so much trouble. She was glad she’d gotten things worked out for Della Pennington before she left, but she had a feeling she’d be paying for that sacrifice for a while to come.
She had plenty of time to think about how she was going to make things up to Gil while sitting in traffic for another hour. Their sex life wasn’t home-movie material, but that was only because when they were together, they were usually too tired to be creative. She intended to reverse that trend with her extra suitcase of lingerie.
Mercifully, traffic began to move and she arrived at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in time to check her two large Louis Vuitton bags and grab a snack before boarding the plane. Unfortunately the “last seat available” was also the least desirable seat on the aircraft—the center seat in the last row, next to the lavatory. Wedged between two men. One guy overflowed into her seat and the other guy snored like a walrus. The two-and-a-half-hour flight to Chicago wasn’t too bad, but she was dismayed to discover they were also her seatmates on the subsequent fifteen-hour flight to Hong Kong. The first-class seats she and Gil had booked taunted her. Right now Gil was probably stretched out horizontally after being tucked in with a warm blankie and a nightcap.
Kimber stuffed tissue in her ears and dozed as best she could around the snoring and the bathroom door banging open and closed, but it was the most interminable flight she’d ever been on. The hands on her watch seemed to crawl, even as she adjusted them when they crossed time zones. Thankfully, she got to change planes in Hong Kong and was seated beside a window, but her stomach sank when a woman with two small children took the seats next to her. The toddlers were fussy from the start, and their wails only grew louder as the flight progressed. Trapped against the wall, Kimber couldn’t avoid flying baby food and toys. She had apple juice poured down one of her legs, and her head pounded from one of the children banging on the seat tray with a truck. To top it all off, the fickle air-conditioning left her sweating in her sticky seat.
She was so miserable she wanted to cry. True, compared to a brain tumor, disrupted travel plans were a relatively small matter, but this was her engagement—her future was on the line. And since leaving Atlanta, she had leapfrogged an entire day and was operating on next to no sleep. She longed to take a shower and crawl into bed. Only the enticing image of an island paradise kept her going. Hours later, despite the fact that her eyelids felt like sandpaper, she was able to rouse herself enough to observe the spectacular sight of the city of Dubai lit up beneath them, sparkling in predawn light.
Kimber gasped, enchanted by the exotic skyline of soaring buildings, a mixture of onion domes and ultra-contemporary silhouettes. A pinkish-yellow glow emanated from the city. The effect was magical. Regret pinged through her that she wouldn’t get to experience the city that she suddenly found captivating. That would have to wait for another trip, another time.
As soon as the flight landed and began to taxi, she turned on her cell phone and punched in Elaina’s number. After a few rings, her sister’s sleepy voice came over the line.
“Hello?”
“Sis, it’s me. Sorry to wake you, but I just landed in Dubai.”
“How were the flights?”
She shot a glance toward the woman with the toddlers, who had finally cried themselves to sleep. “Over, thank goodness. Did you get a flight arranged for me from Dubai to the Maldives?” Kimber rubbed her bleary eyes. She reminded herself that a hammock over a blue lagoon awaited her.
“Yes, I found you a flight.”
Kimber squinted at her sister’s odd tone. “But?”
“But it’s a private charter, so it’s a bit more expensive.”
“At this point, I don’t care. Where do I meet the plane?”
“I’ll let the pilot know you’re there, and I’ll phone you back.”
“Okay.” Kimber ended the call and swallowed a caffeine capsule to make her more alert.
She was one of the last people to deplane and it took nearly an hour to retrieve her two large suitcases from baggage claim. She was pulling the bigger and heavier bag from the conveyor belt when Elaina called back.
“The pilot will meet you in one hour outside customs.”
“How will I know him?”
“He’ll be wearing a green hat that reads ‘M Charters.’ His name is Finn Meyers.”
“He’s American?”
“Right. My agency has worked with him before, and he’s reliable. Kimber, just one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“People in that part of the world are more laid-back than Westerners. You might need to…go with the flow.”
Kimber frowned. “I can flow.”
“Uh-huh,” her sister said, sounding doubtful. “Call me when you get to your island paradise to let me know you arrived. Meanwhile, try to have fun.”
“Right,” she said in a mocking voice. “Thanks, sis.” Kimber ended the call, then punched in Gil’s number. She left a message with details about the chartered flight and that she’d meet him in the Maldives, at the bungalow they’d reserved. “I l
ove you,” she murmured. “This is going to be a great trip. Really.”
The line at customs snaked as far as she could see. Heavy with fatigue, she leaned on her luggage, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. The airport was unexpectedly beautiful—even opulent. It was like a combination atrium and shopping mall. She got glimpses in the distance of contemporary architecture, shiny retail stores and towering palm trees planted indoors. The impressive, immaculate airport was obviously meant to be the gateway to a progressive city.
While she admired her surroundings, Kimber shifted from foot to foot in discomfort. The high-heeled pumps hadn’t been the best choice for travel, although in her defense, she’d dressed for the roominess of a first-class cabin. Her pale skirt suit looked a little the worse for wear, too. She’d considered removing her panty hose in the plane lavatory, but frankly, she hadn’t had the energy. Kimber repaired her chignon as best as she could without a mirror, and hoped she had time to visit a ladies’ room, freshen up and change clothes before meeting the pilot.
But it was not to be.
Getting through customs took longer than she’d anticipated, so long, in fact, that nearly two hours had elapsed by the time she reached the other side. She stopped and dropped her luggage, whirling around to catch a glimpse of a green hat. Across the way, a man sat sprawled in a seat wearing cargo pants and a loud, flowered shirt, his arms crossed and his legs stretched out in front of him, a green cap pulled down over his face.
Kimber stepped closer and squinted at the hat, relieved to see that it read “M Charters.” She cleared her throat several times, hoping to wake him, but he didn’t stir. She lightly tapped his arm and although a zing went through her fingers at the feel of the firm muscle beneath the bronzed skin, he didn’t move. Irritated, she reached forward and lifted the bill of his cap.
His arm shot out and long, strong fingers circled her wrist. His brown-eyed gaze leveled on her. “What do you want?”
She gasped. “I’m sorry. I believe you’re my pilot.”
A sardonic smile lifted his mouth as he looked her up and down. “I’ll be anything you want me to be, lady.”
She frowned and yanked her hand back, straightening. “Mr. Meyers?”
“Finn,” he corrected.
“I believe you were hired to take me to the Maldive Islands?”
“Are you—” he pushed the cap back on his head of shaggy, dark blond hair and reached into the pocket of his loud shirt to pull out a scrap of paper “—Kimber Karlton?”
“Yes.”
He grinned. “Bet you got that name in prep school.”
She frowned. “Can we be going, please? I’m in a hurry to meet my boyfriend.”
He made a rueful noise. “Boyfriend, huh? Too bad.”
She tingled with awareness as his gaze raked over her. Chalking it up to the caffeine finally kicking in, she bristled. “Mr. Meyers, I’m exhausted and I’m really not in the mood for your lame attempts at flirtation.”
He sighed. “You’re right—that wasn’t my best line, but it’s pretty damn early in the morning and I haven’t been to bed yet.” Then he chuckled. “Well, not to sleep, anyway.”
Her eyes flew wide. “You’re going to fly a plane on no sleep?”
He gestured to the seat he occupied. “I caught a catnap while I was waiting. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
She blinked, then set her jaw. “May we get going?”
“We may,” he said, then pushed his long body to his feet and took off walking toward the exit.
“I have bags,” she called after him, gesturing to her luggage.
“I’m not a porter,” he said over his shoulder. “And you should never pack more than you can carry.”
Kimber gaped at his receding back. The man was rude beyond belief. Despite her sister’s endorsement, she was tempted to fire Finn Meyers and find other arrangements. Then she reminded herself that the goal was to reach the Maldives and get her marriage proposal. Suffering an ill-mannered pilot was a small sacrifice.
Resigned, she picked up her heavy suitcases and trudged after him.
CHAPTER THREE
FINN MEYERS resisted the urge to look over his shoulder to see if Fancy Pants was following him. When Elaina Karlton had begged him to take the job, she hadn’t mentioned that her sister was so…hot.
Or she might be if she unclenched a little.
When he exited the airport to the outside, he put on aviator sunglasses against the glare of the early-morning sun. Hangovers were a bitch, but he wouldn’t have had that last shot of tequila if he’d known he’d be flying a charter this morning.
Then he chuckled to himself. On second thought, he probably would’ve had that last shot regardless.
Whistling tunelessly under his breath, he made his way across crowded crosswalks toward the car park, enjoying, as always, the colorful diversity of the people, the vehicles, and the languages around him. After years of living in and around Dubai, he still felt as if he was on vacation in an exotic land.
“Mr. Meyers!” he heard from behind him. “Wait!”
Finn winced. It was the occasional brush with spoiled, uptight Americans that reminded him why he’d left his home country. Finn turned to see the prim Kimber Karlton trying to keep up with him in those ridiculous high heels, struggling with her enormous suitcases. Conceding that losing her would be inconvenient, he folded his arms and waited until she caught up to him.
She was a slender whip of a woman, her skin as pale as nonfat milk. Much of her long brown hair had come loose from its knot. Because she was overdressed, the heat was already taking its toll. Her skin was shiny with perspiration, and each cheek sported a scarlet splotch. She pushed the wayward hair back from her face and settled her stormy, blue-eyed gaze on him. “I could use some help here.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Besides, my SUV isn’t much farther.”
“And then what?”
“Then we’ll drive to the airport where my plane is parked. By the way, I hope you don’t get airsick easily.” He turned and headed in the direction of his vehicle, squashing a pang for the woman. He was hired to do a job, and that was that. Stormy blue eyes be damned.
* * *
KIMBER WANTED to scream. Or cry. She was exhausted and starved, and her suitcases weighed a ton. Meanwhile, Finn Meyers strolled along in front of her as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And from the look of his broad-shouldered physique, he could easily have managed one of her cases, if not both.
She reminded herself to focus on her goal, reaching the Maldives, where she would reunite with Gil and they would have the vacation she’d dreamed about. Finn Meyers must at least be a safe person, otherwise her sister wouldn’t have recommended him.
Unchivalrous, yes, but safe.
Kimber took a deep breath and reached for the handles of her luggage, juggling the bulky purse on her shoulder and grimacing against the sting of blisters on her feet. She glanced from side to side in an attempt to soak up all the sites she could, but in her effort to keep up with Mr. Meyers, she was left with little more than impressions of vibrant clothing and the lively exchange of Arabic and other languages she couldn’t identify.
Meanwhile, people stared at her openly, and she wondered what kind of spectacle she must present—dressed in distinctive, impractical western clothing and disheveled beyond respectable boundaries, especially for a woman. Knowing that she was so out of her element and at the mercy of Finn Meyers made her speed up a little to keep him in sight. She gritted her teeth against the aching muscles in her arms, but she’d let her arms fall off before she’d ask for his help again.
At last he stopped at a faded, butterscotch-colored Toyota FJ Cruiser with a white top. She shuffled up with her load a few minutes later to find him leaning against the SUV studying his fingernails.
He looked up. “You’re moving awfully slow for someone who’s in such a big hurry.”
She released the handles of her bag
s with a noisy exhale, then straightened. “Do I look like a pack mule?”
“Actually, in this part of the world, it would be a pack camel, and…” He looked her over head to toe, lingering on her breasts and her legs so long that they tingled beneath his appreciative gaze. “No, you don’t look like a mule or a camel, although the humps—”
“Could we get going, please?” she cut in with a glare.
“Sure. Let me load those bags for you.” He hoisted the suitcases as if they weighed nothing and tossed them in the back of the SUV without so much as a grunt. They landed with sickening thuds.
“Be careful!” she said. “All my stuff is in there.”
“So like an American to pack your entire wardrobe,” he said, then gestured to her suit. “I hope you brought something more sensible than that outfit.”
She yanked at the wrinkled lapels of her jacket and lifted her chin. “I did. I assume there’ll be someplace for me to change once we arrive at the other airport?”
“Er, sure,” he said congenially.
She opened the passenger door of the SUV, looking forward to the comfort of a roomy, upholstered seat, then stopped and stared at the space that was empty except for a dozen or so empty beer cans.
Finn, who had swung into the driver’s seat, glanced over. “Oh. I had to take out the seat for cargo. Here you go.” He reached behind his seat and pulled out a blue, plastic milk crate, then plopped it down where the passenger seat should have been.
Kimber’s mouth fell open. “You don’t really expect me to sit on a milk crate, do you?”
He shrugged. “It’s that or the floor. Or I can drag one of your big-ass suitcases up here for you to straddle.”
She frowned. “I’ll sit on the crate.”
“I thought you might.”
She used a handle to pull herself up into the SUV and settled gingerly on the crate before closing the door. He cranked up the engine and she scarcely had time to plant her feet among the beer cans before they lurched into motion.
Kimber gripped the door handle and the center console to steady herself. If she craned her neck, she could barely see over the dashboard. Meanwhile, the hard ridges of the crate were practically assaulting her. She winced and shifted, finding no relief.
Sand, Sun...Seduction! Page 2