The Billionaire Princess

by Christina Tetreault

  ***

  Sara struggled to stifle a yawn the next morning as the limo stopped at Reagan International Airport. The previous evening she'd gotten little sleep. After talking to Jake she'd finished packing and crawled into bed around one o'clock. Unfortunately, sleep had eluded her. Instead her conversation with Jake and uneasiness about this trip with Christopher weighed heavily on her mind. Now, however, the sleep she'd craved so much the night before threatened to overtake her.

  "Another late night working, Ms. Sherbrooke?" Colin, one of the Secret Service agents assigned to her detail, asked from the seat across from her in the limo.

  "I had a lot of loose ends to take care of before this trip. And please Colin, call me Sara." She'd been telling the agent that ever since he became part of her security detail, but so far he continued to address her as Ms. Sherbrooke.

  Colin nodded slightly. "I'll try to remember that ma'am."

  Sara fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ma'am was worse than Ms. Sherbrooke. Oh how she wished Raymond, the Secret Service agent Colin replaced, would come back.

  "Andrea and I reviewed your proposed itinerary while in California. We have a few issues we want to review with you."

  Tossing her phone into her Coach purse, Sara slipped the straps onto her shoulder and reached for the leather briefcase at her feet. "Let's plan on doing it once we get to the hotel."

  She didn't want to do it all. She knew the agents were only doing their job, but sometimes she found their presence intrusive. In fact she envied Jake for telling them to take a hike. But as much as she didn't care for their constant presence, she did feel safer with them around.

  The door to the limo opened allowing a blast of unusually cool air into the vehicle. "That should be fine," Colin replied before exiting the limo first.

  Before following the agent, Sara slipped on the jacket that matched her red skirt, grateful for the protection it gave her against the cool early morning air.

  At least it'll be warm in California. Smoothing out any wrinkles, Sara made her way to the stairs leading up to Christopher's Gulf Stream jet. With her right foot poised over the bottom step, she stopped. It had made sense to fly back with him, despite the fact that she could use the family jet or one from the senatorial pool. They could use the flight time to review the scripts, which had been emailed to her. She stood there, though her body tensed and her mind told her to turn around and scrap the whole trip.

  Everything will be fine. The sound of her heel hitting the metal step vibrated through her entire body and she forced her left foot onto the first step too.

  "Perfect timing. Did your driver already get your bags?" Christopher appeared at the plane door.

  That morning he'd gone for what she called the super-casual look. With his faded jeans, plain gray T-shirt and sneakers he reminded her a little more of the guy who'd roomed with her brother instead of the ultra-wealthy CEO the rest of the world knew.

  "All set." Sara forced herself to smile despite the tightness in her chest. She couldn't explain it, but she felt as if each step up the stairs was taking her further away from her life as she knew it and closer to something else. Something new and unexpected.

  Christopher took a step back so she could enter the plane. "Excellent. As soon as you're settled we can go."

  Forty minutes into the flight, Sara ditched her jacket and reached for her cup of tea. Both she and Christopher had finished their breakfast and had gone straight to work. Or at least she tried to work. Her brain had other ideas. It wanted to focus on the man seated across from her. Once again Sara's eyes traveled back to Christopher, the man who visited her dreams every night. The man, who despite knowing it was a huge mistake, she wanted to get to know better.

  Despite her inability to work, Christopher didn't suffer from the same fate. Since opening his laptop, he hadn't looked up once. A fact that actually annoyed her a little. Having a man ignore her wasn't something that ever happened.

  Perhaps sensing her gaze, Christopher looked up, his warm chocolate brown eyes locking on her face. Heat instantly scorched her cheeks. It was one thing to study someone but another to be caught doing it.

  "Sorry, I haven't been very good company," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. "I'm almost done with this."

  The soft leather felt cool against the back of her thighs as she shifted in her seat, causing her skirt to ride up her thigh. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

  Christopher's eyes dropped down to the screen once again. She heard his fingers moving over the keyboard then he closed the laptop and his gaze once again settled on her face.

  "All done. I'm all yours.” His mouth curved into a wide smile.

  Memories of their one night together exploded in her mind. They hadn't spoken of it on the three occasions they'd seen each other yet she couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about it. Too bad asking is out of the question.

  "You should be careful who you say that to." She hoped a little teasing would help her think of him as a brother type rather than a lover. After all she joked with Jake all the time. "Say that to the wrong woman and you'll find yourself holding a pumice stone giving a pedicure."

  Without warning he leaned forward and lifted her leg toward him. The feel of his hand on her bare calf sent shivers through her body.

  "Since it looks like you had one recently, I guess I'm safe." He lifted his head from his inspection of her coral pink toenails. Slowly he put her foot back down to the floor and released it. But even after he moved his hand away she could feel it on her skin.

  Why did I do that? Christopher gripped his armrest, hard enough to make his knuckles turn white to prevent himself from touching her again. "So how did you end up working for Senator Healy? Didn't he run against your father's friend George Beck in the primary?" A discussion of politics should be a good way to keep them both distracted.

  "My father wanted me to work with George. Actually he guaranteed me a spot on his staff if I wanted it."

  "Then why did you go with Healy? A lot of people didn't think he could win." Sara struck him as the type to follow the expectations of her family. Jake was the rebel, not Sara.

  Sara shrugged one shoulder. "I like George. I've known him all my life, but I don't agree with his policies. A lot of them are too old-fashioned. Besides, I wanted to earn my position, not have it given to me."

  Prior to a few weeks ago, he'd thought of Sara as little more than a spoiled rich girl. Sure he knew she was well-educated, but he hadn't realized she used her education or had any aspirations for the future. Obviously he couldn't have been more wrong. Not only did she have aspirations, she wanted to achieve them through hard work like everyone else.

  "Makes sense. But why Healy? I'm sure half a dozen senators or congressmen would love to have you on their team." Having the daughter of a popular president in your corner had to be a plus in politics not to mention she had a law degree from Harvard University.

  "I liked his platform. It was something I could rally behind. Take this legislation of his for education. He understands the importance of boosting the sciences and technology in schools. Many of the senior politicians are stuck in the past and don't see that our schools are lagging behind in those areas." As she spoke more emotion poured into her voice.

  Christopher raised both hands in surrender. "You don't have to convince me. I agree, remember," he said with a laugh.

  "Sorry,” she said looking a bit sheepish, "this topic gets me a little emotional."

  Christopher dropped his hands. "I never would've guessed."

  "I think we have a good chance of getting it approved. When these ads run, I think people will realize how much the country will benefit and contact their senators urging them to vote for the bill. Senator Healy was right. You are the perfect spokesperson. Although I'm not sure he needs me too." Sara reached for her teacup as she spoke.

  "You're wrong there. Trust me on this one." Christopher emptied his coffee cup and asked the flight attendant for more. "Are those t
he proposed scripts?" He glanced over at the papers in front of Sara. She'd been folding and unfolding the corners of the pages through the majority of their conversation.

  Sara looked down and he got the impression she'd forgotten about the papers. "Yes. They were emailed to me late last night. For the most part they're good, but I thought we might want to tweak a few lines."

  "We have time now. Why don't we go over them?” Christopher said coming to his feet. Before Sara could agree or disagree he moved to the other side of the table and sat down next to her. "May I?" He leaned closer and reached for the papers. As he did he caught the slightest smell of her perfume. A light flowery fragrance, it was the same one she'd worn in Hawaii and at the fundraiser. Normally, he didn't remember the smell of a particular perfume. Having grown up in a house with four sisters he had constantly been around it, but he couldn't tell you which sister favored what fragrance. Somehow though he knew the one Sara wore now was the same one from those other nights.

  Sara released the papers. “I marked the sentences that I think need work."

  It didn't take long for him to read over the material and commit it to memory. Just one of the benefits of a photographic memory, and he had never been more grateful for it than he was now. Sitting so close to Sara with her perfume teasing his nose destroyed most of his concentration.

  Christopher shifted in his seat in an attempt to put more space between them. “I agree this sentence needs work.” He pointed at a sentence underlined in red. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Sara reached for the papers and her hand brushed against his. “I wrote some ideas on the back.”

  He looked up and his eyes immediately zeroed in on her lips. The memory of how perfect they felt against his made his body ache to hold her close and taste her again. How would she respond if he kissed her now? Would she push him away or wrap her arms around him?

  “How do they sound?”

  Her question intruded on his thoughts. He hadn't heard a word she'd read. “Sounds good.” He dropped his eyes back down to the papers. If he stopped staring at her mouth maybe he'd get some work done. “This line here, I like already.” He pointed to the next underlined sentence on the page. “But let’s work on this last one here.”