by J. Haymore
* * * * *
A few hours later, we land at the Burbank Airport. As we taxi toward the terminal, Ethan glances out the window and immediately stiffens.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
I look over his shoulder and gasp. It’s twilight, and there are at least fifty people standing in an area off to the side marked by police tape, and several cops appear to be guarding the perimeter. Many of the people have cameras or microphones, and there’s an NBC News van parked behind the crowd.
“Holy shit!” Kyle, who’s sitting in the seat in front of Ethan, exclaims. “Look at all those reporters!”
I put my hand on Ethan’s arm, not sure if I’m comforting him or trying to comfort myself.
“Will we have to talk to them?”
But Ethan isn’t listening. He’s already on his phone. “How did this get out? What do you mean you don’t know?” He grinds his teeth, then begins biting out instructions. “Find Josephine Lewis and the Carlssons. Have the car parked in front of the gate—I don’t care whether security fucking complains. Security should have prevented all these people from coming out here—” He continues, but my attention is riveted by one of the flight attendants opening the door. I hear shouting outside, and I grip Ethan’s arm tighter.
He presses the End button on his phone and shoves it into his pocket before turning to me and speaking loudly enough for Kyle to hear. “Okay, we’re going to get out of here as quickly as possible. Don’t answer any questions. My men will escort us through the crowd. They’ll bring your aunt and Kyle’s parents to meet us. Understand?”
Mute, I nod.
“What’s the big deal?” Kyle asks. “They probably just want to hear about what happened—”
“I’m not talking to anyone,” Ethan bites out. He meets my eyes. “And neither are you.”
“Okay.” I’ll just keep my head down, hold his hand, and let him lead me out of there. It sounds perfectly doable.
Ethan blows out a breath. “Let’s go.”
We walk toward the door and emerge into a cool summer evening in the San Fernando Valley. The stairs are narrow, so we need to walk down single file. Kyle goes first, then Ethan’s palm presses on my back, urging me forward. He follows right behind me, his hand dropping away after I descend the first step.
Cameras flash all around me, but I keep my head down as planned, focusing on the silver gleam of the steps. When I reach the bottom, I step to the side and turn to face Ethan as he descends the final step. I reach out to take his hand, but he’s not even looking in my direction. Instead, he’s staring straight into the crowd, and then I see his lips part and his eyes widen.
“Ethan!”
The feminine cry comes from somewhere in the crowd, and for the first time, I raise my head. Blinking, I search for the source of the voice, but everything is bright, everyone is talking, and I can’t see anything but the swarm of bodies.
“Oh my God, Ethan!” the woman calls again. Her shout wavers as if said on a sob.
And then a lithe brunette bursts forward. She ducks under the police tape and throws herself into Ethan’s arms. “I was so worried,” she cries, clutching him like…like I would have, if he’d just been gone for a month and I’d discovered his life had been in danger.
His arms slowly rise and go around her. She kisses him on the lips, reaching up to thread her hands through his hair. “Ethan,” she sobs between kisses. “Ethan. Ethan. I was so worried. So worried.”
I see that she’s beautiful. Older than me—probably closer to Ethan’s age—and model-perfect, except for her diminutive height. She has red-brown hair that shines in the dim light, and she’s petite and slender and refined. She wears a sophisticated white textured skirt that falls just above her knees and a short jacket, stiletto heels, and gold jewelry that flashes in the dim light.
“Ethan?” I say. He’s close enough that he must have heard me, but he doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
I stand there, frozen, my feet glued to the asphalt. This is so…impossible. My brain cannot connect anything about this moment to what I know about Ethan.
“Ethan?” I say it a little louder this time. Still, he ignores me.
He pulls the woman close and moves his lips to her ear. I see his mouth moving, but he’s whispering, and I can’t hear what he’s saying. All I can do is think of the way he’s intimately whispered into my ear like that.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, but I don’t turn to see who it is. I know that touch. It’s Kyle.
A burly man in a black suit approaches me. “Miss Jameson? Mr. Carlsson?”
“Yes?”
“I’m here to escort you to the car. If you’ll follow me, please.”
Kyle flicks a glance in the direction of Ethan and the woman. I turn. They’re holding hands now, and Ethan is smiling. He still hasn’t looked at me. He hasn’t acknowledged me once since we got off the airplane.
I am shattering. Breaking into a million confused and hurt pieces. My knees wobble, but Kyle is there. He slips his arm around me, being my strength as he has so many times before. “Come on, Tara,” he says quietly. “Let’s get out of here.”
I manage to stay upright as Kyle guides me around the crowd and across the pavement. People try to approach us, but the men shoo them away. One of the men holds the door to the terminal open to us. Just before I walk through, I glance back.
Ethan stands with the woman, and they’re both smiling and talking—no, gushing is a more appropriate term—to the reporters.
I don’t understand any of this. It’s as if the moment Ethan stepped off the plane, he became someone else.
“Who…who is that?” I say, my voice shaking. I’m not asking anyone in particular. Maybe I’m simply asking the universe. But the man behind me seems to think I’m addressing him.
“Who’s who?” he asks.
I gesture in Ethan’s direction. “That woman.”
The man glances back, frowning. “The woman with Mr. Williams?”
“Yes.”
He raises his brows as if he’s surprised I don’t know. “Oh, that’s Justine Lindberg. His fiancée.”
To be continued...
***This Ends Volume 3 of Swept Away.***
Swept Away is a 4-part serial novel. Part Four will be available in early December.
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www.jenniferhaymore.com
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author J./Jennifer Haymore is the author of sexy historical and contemporary romance. Her books have been nominated for numerous awards, including five RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice awards and the prestigious RITAÆ award for best historical romance.
You can find Jennifer in Southern California trying to talk her husband into yet another trip to England, helping her three children with homework while brainstorming a new five-minute dinner menu, or crouched in a corner of the local bookstore writing her next novel.
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Also by J. Haymore
Coming Soon:
Swept Away, Volume 4 (December)
Now Available:
Swept Away, Volume 1
Swept Away, Volume 2
Never Let Me Go
Sugar Cay
The Remix
The Reunion
Highland Knights
A Highlander's Heart
The House of Trent
The Duchess Hunt
The Rogue's Proposal
The Scoundrel's Seduction
The House of Trent Novellas
Devil's Pearl
His For Christmas
One Night with an Earl
The Donovan Sisters
Confessions of an Improper B
ride
Once Upon a Wicked Night (a short story)
Secrets of an Accidental Duchess
Pleasures of a Tempted Lady
The James Series
A Hint of Wicked
A Touch of Scandal
A Season of Seduction
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