“Wouldn’t you just love it if I said yes.” I flip open my magazine, dismissing him.
He chuckles and stands. I sneakily check out his package. At least I think I’m being sneaky.
He drops back down beside me, arm touching mine as he whispers, “Wondering whether what I have is better than what you’ve got in your treasure chest?”
I choke back a snort, flip the magazine shut, and decide a pretend nap is a smart idea. How did I get into this situation? Why does he have to be so flirty and hot? I always assumed that Lex’s reputation with women was a given truth. But I’m really not so sure. In all the time I’ve known him he’s never had a girlfriend—not one that I’ve seen. And then there was that one rumor about how well he took care of his bachelor auction date last year—she paid over one hundred grand, so I suppose it’s possible he gave her full service, but it’s all just gossip.
The part of me that I’ve kept buried for the past year, the part that says fuck all the consequences, would very much like to find out if the rumors are true. That’s asking for trouble, though.
So much trouble.
But I kind of want to get into a little of that while I’m in Bora Bora. Or maybe a lot.
Eight: Don’t Touch That
Lexington
Amalie fell asleep an hour ago, which is a good thing. I can’t flirt with her when she’s unconscious. I can, however, be considerate and thoughtful.
I tipped her seat back and pulled out the footrest—all without disturbing her. I’m that smooth. I secured a pillow for her and even tucked it under her head, twice, but she seems to prefer my shoulder. She’s currently curled up on her side, hugging my bicep. I’ve used my jacket to cover her from the waist down, because her skirt keeps riding up, exposing the lacy top of her thigh highs. I’d like to say I’ve covered her up because I’m a decent human being, but the truth is, there’s an old guy to the left of us who keeps looking over every time she moves. It’s okay for me to check out her thigh-highs—him, not so much. Also, it’s giving me a hard-on I can’t do anything about.
Amalie’s not a silent sleeper. She makes these soft little sounds, moans and sighs. She mumbles too, and based on the way she keeps inching closer, she’s a snuggler.
I hate that the image of her curled around my cousin’s arm pops into my head. I hate that he’s had her, been inside her, knows what she sounds like when she comes. I hate that he’s humiliated her in such a public way, made her question her value as a person, her worth. I hate that he asked her out before I could.
I’d been watching her all night, just completely in awe of the way she handled the room, her interactions with people. I’d wanted a chance to find out what was under that sweetly polished exterior. I never should have left her side the night I met her. If I’d been smart I would’ve taken her with me to the bar, and kept her away from Armstrong. But then, even if I’d managed to get her to go out with me, he would’ve found a way to fuck it up for me. He always has. I don’t intend to allow him another opportunity to mess with me. Not after this.
I move stray hairs from her cheek. She really is absolutely gorgeous. The vibe she gives off isn’t quite sex kitten. Her face is too sweet, her features fine, delicate. It’s what makes the fact that she has a trunk of sex toys that much more intriguing. She certainly doesn’t look like the kind of woman who would be toting a collection of butt plugs. And that stainless-steel number. Fucking hell. I’d give my left nut to put that to use. Okay, maybe not a nut, but I’d give up something good to have that opportunity.
It’s gratifying to know that Armstrong hasn’t benefited at all from her collection, pretentious prick that he is. I’ll bet he felt threatened. I’ve seen him strutting around in the locker room. He doesn’t have anything to peacock about.
Amalie makes another little noise and presses her cheek against my arm. I return my attention to spreadsheets and the figures on the screen instead of perverted thoughts, but it’s a losing battle.
The flight attendant pauses when she reaches me and passes over two blankets. “For you and your girlfriend.”
“Thank you.” I don’t correct her.
I don’t remove my jacket from Amie’s legs. I just drape the blanket over her and tuck her in. I give up on working. I’ll have plenty of time when I get to Bora Bora to review the rest of the material. Sleep hasn’t been great the past few days. I have meetings four hours after I arrive with the resort manager, and I’ve reviewed the critical details. I should get some sleep.
I pull up my leg rest and recline, pushing back Amie’s chair until we’re both fully prone. The console makes it impossible for her to get any closer, which is probably a good thing.
I adjust her position and try the pillow again, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade her. In fact, now that we’re both prone, she pushes her forehead against my bicep, and she starts murmuring, my name is in there, a soft, tiny whisper.
As I close my eyes and settle in, I have to wonder what the purpose of all of this is. The series of events that put me beside Amalie on this plane seem like too much of a coincidence to ignore. I have a woman with a shattered heart at my side. A causality of Armstrong’s endless need to screw with me. I missed my chance before, but maybe now I can be part of what helps put her back together.
* * *
“Excuse me, sir.” Light tapping on my shoulder becomes slightly more vigorous until I open my eyes. I blink against the brightness and look up into the smiling face of our flight attendant. “We’re serving breakfast prior to landing.”
Prior to landing? How long have I been asleep? “Oh. Okay. How much longer until we land?”
“Just under two hours, sir. Would your travel companion be interested in breakfast, as well?”
It’s then that I take stock of Amalie, cuddled up next to me. Her face still pressed against my arm, as if she hasn’t moved in the time we’ve been asleep. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept for that many hours consecutively. My gaze drops lower, to where she’s thrown her blanket off and her skirt has ridden up obscenely high. Her top has done the same, exposing a strip of toned stomach. I quickly pull her blanket back in place.
“Yes, please. That would be wonderful.”
“I’ll leave the menu with you and give you a few minutes to decide.” She moves on to the old man, who I’m sure has been enjoying the view, based on his upside-down magazine.
I shift Amie so her head is on her pillow before I right my seat and fold down the footrest. Once more, I contemplate the purpose of this—us being thrown together in unconventional circumstances. I don’t buy the divine intervention bullshit. But, knowing I’m going to be near her for the next few weeks—that’s a strange kind of torture.
“Amie.” I give her shoulder a gentle shake and smile, appreciating the shortened version of her name now that I know how she came by it.
She blinks and looks around, disoriented. She scrambles up, the blanket falling away, giving me yet another glimpse of those blue-ball-inducing garters. She looks around frantically, blows out a breath, and settles in her seat. She touches her lips. “I had the strangest dream.”
“Oh yeah, what was it about?”
Her cheeks flush as she looks me over. “Oh, um . . . I can’t remember.” She busies herself, adjusting her skirt and blouse. “I’m a wrinkled mess.”
“You’re gorgeous.” I realize I’m staring and focus on the menu. “They’re serving breakfast. Are you hungry?’
“Starving.” She yawns and stretches. “Wait, breakfast? How long have I been asleep? How many more hours until we land?”
“Less than two according to the flight attendant.” I set the menu on the console between us.
“Seriously? I slept for nine hours? I think the last time I did that was in high school.”
“You obviously needed it.”
“Clearly.” She browses the options. “Everything sounds good. Oh God, waffles. I think it’s been more than a year since I’ve eaten a waffle. What’re
you getting?” She leans in, her forearm resting against mine.
It really shouldn’t feel this natural to wake up beside her. “I was thinking the yogurt parfait or the muesli.” I tap the options under the healthy selection.
Amalie wrinkles her nose. “Seriously?”
I laugh. “No. Not seriously. I’m either feeling the bacon and eggs or the omelet.”
“Oooh, those both sound good.” She bites that plush bottom lip. “It’s so hard to decide. I haven’t had bacon in forever, either.” After a few more seconds of mulling, she grabs my forearm. “I have an idea. Why don’t I get the waffle, and you get the bacon and eggs, or the omelet, and we can share?” She withdraws her hand. “Unless you’re worried about germs.”
“I’m not worried about germs unless you plan on licking everything on the plate first.”
She makes a face. It’s so fucking cute. I don’t know how one woman can be so sexy and so sweet at the same time. “Um, no, that’s just gross.”
“I think we’re good then.”
The flight attendant returns with the breakfast cart. Amalie declines the mimosa and opts for coffee and water. We eat off each other’s plates like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It feels like too short a time before we begin our descent. I’ve never wanted a flight to be longer, but today I do. Amalie is quiet, staring out the window as we approach the island. She grips the armrest when the wheels touch down. I note her crossed fingers and then the way she relaxes when the plane slows.
“Are you afraid of flying?” I ask.
She looks over at me. “What?”
“You were crossing your fingers when we landed.”
“Oh.” Her smile is wry. “I’m not afraid of being in the air. It’s the takeoff and landing that make me nervous. It’s why I always have a couple of drinks before I fly, cuts the nerves.”
“I’m pretty sure an entire bottle of champagne qualifies as more than a couple of drinks.”
Amalie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She retrieves her purse from under the seat, pops a square of gum into her mouth, and checks her reflection in a small compact mirror. “I look like last night’s hooker. Why didn’t you tell me my hair was this bad?”
“It looks good to me.”
While she works on fixing her perfectly acceptable appearance, I put all my files back in my bag and make sure I have my phone, iPad, and laptop. Last year Bane left his phone and iPad on a plane and couldn’t communicate with anyone until he had them replaced. That caused a shit show with Ruby, his now live-in girlfriend. And while I don’t have anyone waiting for me back home, I can’t afford to be without my laptop on this trip, or my phone.
“Could you pass me my jacket please?” I point to the floor at her feet.
Amalie reaches down and picks up my jacket. “How’d that get over here?”
“It was a makeshift blanket until the flight attendant came by with a real one.” I leave out the part where I did it to cover her thigh highs and the thin strap of her garters.
She passes it to me. “Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
“It was really nothing.”
“Armstrong would’ve been too worried I’d wrinkle his jacket to do something that considerate.”
“That’s because Armstrong’s a dick.”
Amalie regards me for a few seconds. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I shrug into my jacket, adjusting my collar and tightening my tie.
“Why don’t you two get along?”
“Because he’s a dick.”
“Funny. That’s the same answer I got out of him.”
I sigh. I don’t want to get into this with her. “Sometimes people just don’t see eye to eye. Armstrong and I are like that. And he’s an actual dick who does dickhead things because he enjoys it.”
“I learned that too late, I think.”
The seat-belt light dings and the first-class cabin begins to disembark. I help Amalie with her carry-on and we head for baggage claim together.
“Where are you staying?” I ask as we wait for her bags to come around. She has more than one, likely because she’d planned to spend half of her vacation in lingerie. I throw a mental middle finger at Armstrong for missing out on it. Then I consider that someone else, some random hook-up, might get to see what Armstrong is missing.
“At the Haven.”
“You’ll love it there.” Of course she’s staying at one of my family’s properties. I can’t believe I didn’t ask before now. It’s on the opposite end of the island from where I’m staying, but it’s a small island, so it’s still not very far. I can’t decide if being at the same resort would be good or bad. I’d be tempted to find reasons to see her, and that would inevitably lead to more flirting, which could lead to other, more complicated adventures. If she offered the opportunity, I’d be hard-pressed not to take it.
“Armstrong and I came here several months ago and stayed a couple of nights at each of your resorts. I liked the Mills Resort and Spa best, but Armstrong thought this would be nicer. More private.”
He was right about that. The Haven is far more secluded, with private beachhouses set into the lush landscape. The Mills Resort and Spa is set on the water with a fabulous view of the inactive volcano, which is where I’m staying for now. I imagine Armstrong wanted the beachhouse because he’s not a huge fan of water and the shallow beach would be a better option. Where Amalie is staying is also our honeymoon resort. It’s the newest, the most recently updated, and needs the least of my attention while I’m here.
I collect our bags from the carousel and we head out into the beautiful, hot sunny day. Amalie slips on a pair of huge sunglasses. “What about you? Where are you staying?”
“On the other side of the island at the Resort and Spa.”
“Oh.” The sunglasses cover her eyes, but disappointment colors the single word.
I’m a familiar face on an otherwise solitary holiday. It won’t hurt to give her the ability to reach out should she want company, and I’m hoping she does. “Why don’t I give you my number in case you run into any problems, or you need anything?”
“Um. Okay. Sure. That sounds good.” Amalie rummages around in her purse until she finds her phone. She takes it off airplane mode and alerts and messages blow up the screen. “I guess I should call Ruby so she knows I’m alive.” She ignores the messages and brings up her contact list, adding my name before she passes me the device.
“Like I said, if you need anything while you’re here, I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thank you, Lex. For being so understanding about everything.”
“You didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Maybe not, but you got dragged into it unfairly. Anyway, your kindness has been appreciated.” She steps in, her body pressing against me as her arms wind around my waist. With her heels on, the top of her head reaches my chin. I return her brief embrace, enjoying far too much the way her body feels against mine. When she pulls away, her lips brush against the edge of my jaw. Fresh awkwardness replaces the easy, light mood.
I can fix that. “Just remember, my offer stands.”
She adjusts her purse strap. “What offer?”
I tap her carry-on case with my toe. “To be your beta tester.”
She laughs and shakes her head. I help put her cases in the trunk of one of the waiting cars and hold the door for her.
She waves as the car pulls away, her fingertips sliding down the glass as that soft smile falls. I hope she calls, and even if she doesn’t, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay away from her. Not when she’s this close and I seem to be getting back my lost opportunity.
Nine: Honeymoon Blues
Amie
“I’m here and safe, I’m sorry I didn’t call you before takeoff.” Ruby’s slightly miffed by my lack of communication over the past eighteen hours. Apparently my email was insufficient and did not provide nearly enough details.
“Are you at the resort now? Di
d you meet a hottie on the plane? Did you hump him in the bathroom?”
“I’m in a car on my way. I didn’t hump anyone in the bathroom, that’s just gross.”
“Your email made it seem like the plane ride was going to be exciting.” She sounds pouty now.
The man driving glances in the rearview mirror. I smile and go back to my conversation with Ruby as I watch the endless expanse of white sand and pale blue water pass. I can’t wait to go for a swim. Alone.
“It was more exciting than most.” I’m twirling my hair. I sit on my free hand to stop the fidgeting.
“I knew it! Did you get it on with some sex god in your seats? That’s totally an old-you move!”
I snort. “I was never that wild.”
“Pretty close. Anyway, tell me about your seat partner! Was he hot? Did you get a number? Is he staying at your resort?”
“Yes he’s hot, yes I have his number, and no, he’s not staying at my resort.”
“Ohhh! Yay! Too bad about the last part, but Bora Bora is small, right? That means you can go visit him at his resort and then find another hottie to get freaky with at your own. It’s actually perfect.”
I laugh. “I love that you’re condoning such bad behavior, but I’m not going to sleep with him.”
“Why the hell not? You’ve spent the last year with a douchebag, you deserve a few sex-filled weeks.”
“Because Lexington sat beside me on the plane.”
Several seconds of silence follow. I smile as I imagine her shocked expression. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Lexington was on the plane. Beside me.”
Her voice is about seven thousand octaves higher. “As in Bancroft’s brother?”
“Do you know any other men named Lexington?”
“Just that porn star. Holy shit. Wait. Lex is in Bora Bora? How don’t I know this? Hold on.” Her voice is muffled briefly, but her finger must slip, because all of a sudden I hear Bancroft in the background and then it sounds like the phone is being dropped. Ruby returns, her voice still high. “Bancroft didn’t realize Lex was in Bora Bora. No, you can’t have the phone, Bane, just call your damn brother if you want information, I’m having a conversation right now. No. No. Do not make threats you know you can’t follow up on.” There’s more static and movement. “Sorry about that. So Lex was on your flight, in the seat next to you?”
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