by Amelia Wilde
“Gideon Hawke,” he says when I turn. “Richard Ellis. How’s your father doing?”
It takes me a minute to place him—one of my father’s executive board members from the old days, it turns out—and then we’re shaking hands and exchanging small talk about our respective businesses, and with every word that comes out of my mouth, the desperation filling my gut increases.
I’m distracted by the anxious worry simmering restlessly in my gut sit all through dinner, looking at Kennedy from my seat and trying not to seem like I’m a man obsessed. I focus on trying to make conversation with the others at the table, while trying not to draw too much attention from the people who recognize me.
The dancing doesn’t start nearly soon enough, and as soon as it does, there’s a hand on my shoulder.
I look up into Kennedy’s angelic face, her cheeks rosy from the effects of the glass of champagne that kicked all of the festivities off.
“You don’t have to convince me this time.”
I’m on my feet in an instant, reaching for her hand, and when our palms touch, it’s that same spark I felt that very first time in the club, that same electric, hot sensation that makes me want to run my hands all over her body for the rest of the evening, for the rest of the night, and for the rest of my life. I pull her into the crowd forming on the dance floor, and she sways immediately into the rhythm of the music. I pull her close. I can’t help myself. “You look incredible,” I murmur into her ear, a hitch catching in my voice.
“So do you. It’s—” She gives me a soft kiss on my jawline.
“What?”
“I wish we could be alone.”
“Do you?”
“Yes…”
The moment the words are out of her mouth, I’m edging us toward the side of the dance floor, breaking us slowly away from the crowd, not fast enough to draw any attention, but fast enough that I can stand to be in my own skin.
“Where are you taking us?” Kennedy laughs, but her voice is low and full of heat and need.
“Somewhere private.”
“You know somewhere private?”
I give her a long look, then tug her the final step off the dance floor.
I had enough time before the ceremony to find an out-of-the-way alcove in a place far enough away from the banquet hall that nobody’s going to look for us there, and I press Kennedy into it the instant we arrive there, covering her mouth with mine, tasting the sweet champagne on her tongue.
“Let’s get out of here,” I growl into her ear.
She sucks in her breath.
33
Kennedy
On many levels, I want to go with Gideon. But what makes me tense in his arms, my body drawing back from him an inch, is an instinct I can't control. The dancing has started at the reception, and the drinks are still flowing. If nobody is here to keep a watchful eye on things, who knows what might happen? I’m not about to keep track of every guest at the wedding—that would be absurd—but Leah and the bridal party have been drinking all day, and if any one of them gets into a car with the wrong person...
Gideon pulls back. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” I lean in and kiss the side of his neck, wrapping my arms more tightly around his shoulders, but something has shifted between us, changed in the air. My heart beats in a different rhythm than it was a few minutes ago, thudding in an awkward pattern that makes me uneasy. Aside from the champagne at the start of the reception and two mimosas earlier today—Leah insisted—I haven't been drinking, so it's not that. It's the slightest change in the way Gideon and I are existing together, and I don't like it.
He pulls us out of the alcove, sweeping me into him, his arm around my waist, and tugs us back down the hallway. This place must have really good soundproofing, because all I'm hearing from the banquet hall is a muffled bass line from the music.
“Where are we going now?” I say, but my breathlessness isn't because I'm feeling giddy or turned on, like it normally is.
Gideon grins at me, but there's a flash in his eyes that's gone so fast I can't read it. “Back to the reception. Don't you need to dance with the bridal party? They're probably going to play that sisterhood song soon, and you won't want to miss that.”
I roll my eyes. “I don't know if Leah put that on the list.”
He scoffs, laughing. “Of course she did. Anyone who hires a DJ has them play that song.”
“Are you a wedding DJ expert?”
He gives me a look. “I’ve been to a few of these. I even have my own ideas of what I might want at a wedding.” Something about the way he says it sends a chill down my spine, though there’s still a smile on his face.
I’m about to ask what he wants in a wedding, leaping past the cold twist in my gut, but we’re already back at the banquet hall and Gideon is pulling open the door and ushering me through it, back to the music and the lights. Leah looks like a glowing cake-topper in the very center of it all, the rest of the bridesmaids gathered around her and her new husband unable to pull himself away.
What went so wrong out there in the hallway?
I catch Gideon’s arm.
“What’s wrong?”
He looks down at me, then back at the dance floor. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“One second we’re having a hot moment in an alcove, and the next you’re rushing me back here like missing Love Shack would be the world’s greatest tragedy.”
His eyes soften, and he steps closer to me. “Nothing’s wrong,” he repeats. “I made an assumption I shouldn’t have.”
So that’s what this is. One moment of hesitation, and he’s scrambling to fix it—even though there must be a better way to do it. For both of us.
“I saw the look on your face,” he says into my ear. “I didn’t like it that I made you feel that way.”
His tone is sincere, but there’s still something in his expression that’s a little off, a little wrong. I don’t know if I can get him to confess what it is.
“Are you sure that’s all?”
He grins. “Of course.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to leave with you.” The music throbs in my ears, and I swallow down a lump that’s risen in my throat. There are no good words to explain this obligation that I feel to stay until the bitter end, in case.
“I understand.” He slips his hands around my waist, and through the crowd I see Leah notice the two of us and smile, then whisper into Jared’s ear. His head swivels toward us as Gideon says, “I remember a certain gorgeous redhead saying I wouldn’t have to convince her to dance tonight.”
Everything shifts back to the way it was, and I feel like I’ve caught my balance again. “I did say that.”
“I didn’t mean you,” Gideon says, standing up straight and looking around behind him. “There was someone else here who—”
I slap at his shoulder, and he leans back in, kissing me gently on the lips, sending pleasure zinging from my mouth to my nipples. When I pull away, I catch my breath. “How can I dance with you when you’re going to kiss me like that?”
“I’ve heard you can do two things at once.”
I reach for his hand, leading him back into the crowd, but I don’t reach up to kiss him again. There are too many people here, too many watchful pairs of eyes, and my body is thrumming with the need to be somewhere private with Gideon, somewhere nobody can see us, somewhere that we can forget that tense moment in the hall.
“I can’t wait to leave with you.”
Gideon laughs, his body moving with the beat of the song, hands coaxing at my hips to sway in time with him. “Is it me, or have we entered some kind of alternate universe since three minutes ago?”
“I meant…” A wave of uncertainty sweeps over me. After that strange tension reared up between us, is he still going to want to take me on some exotic getaway? “I meant the trip you’ve been planning.”
Now his smile turns satisfied, his eyes shining in the lights that are streaming in wild patter
ns from the DJ station. “I hate to disappoint you,” he says, his smooth voice curling around my spine, wiping away the nervous jitters in my stomach. “But there won’t be any DJs where we’re going.”
The song changes, morphing into something loud and heavy and perfect for a night out at the club. I think of the pristine sands at Virgin Gorda, the wind whispering through my hair while we climbed the Baths, the turquoise waves washing over the shore. All of it is reflected in Gideon’s green eyes.
“It can’t come fast enough.”
34
Gideon
“You’re a man possessed.”
Dahlia breezes into my office with lunch on a tray. I normally insist on leaving the office at lunchtime—it’s the only way I can stand to work there for weeks on end—but today I want to be buried in work. Today I want to jump in to projects so deeply at the office that it wipes away the memory of Kennedy hesitating in that alcove at Westbury Manor.
I overreacted like an idiot, and I know that. There was no way in hell she was going to skip out on her friend’s wedding reception to be with me, no matter how strongly she feels about me.
“I’m a man who has work to do.”
Dahlia sets the tray on the free side of my desk, and we both look down at the arrangement. It’s a sandwich from the building’s cafeteria, a BLT that’s slightly lopsided, and a cup of vegetable soup.
“I have work to do,” I repeat again.
“If you don’t want the sandwich, say so.”
“I don’t want this sandwich.” In fact, the last thing I want to do is eat this sandwich.
Dahlia perches on the edge of the desk and waits until I look at her. “Do you want me to order in from somewhere else?”
I glare at her. “Don’t patronize me.”
She shakes her head, a slow, measured motion. “I’m not patronizing you. You’re acting weird, and I want to know why.”
“And you think I should share that kind of personal information with my executive secretary?”
Raising a hand to her chest, she clutches at her heart, flinging her head back as if she’s been shot. “I never thought you’d say such cruel words to me.”
I sigh theatrically. “I know you’re not just my secretary.”
“I’m your friend, Gideon, even though you never take me on exotic vacations with you, like you do with your other friends.”
“I took you to Hawaii last year.”
“Yeah, but that was before I broke up with Sarah, and the memory—”
“Is tainted,” I finish for her. “Let’s go out to lunch.”
There’s a steakhouse down the block, and as Dahlia slides into the booth across from me, I rub both hands over my face. “I’m overreacting.”
Dahlia opens her mouth wide and gasps, hand flying up to her face. “You don’t say.”
“Do you want to hear about it or not?” I snap.
She straightens up in her chair, folding her hands on the table. “Obviously.”
I tell her what happened at Westbury Manor. It’s not a long story.
When I’m finished, Dahlia sits back in the booth. “Gideon.”
“What?”
“You’re being an idiot.”
“I know.”
“Let’s hurry up and order. You have things to do in the office.”
“I know. I’m trying to get all of the monthly reports out of the way before I leave for—”
“No.” Dahlia shakes her head. “You need to get back to the office, send her some flowers, and then plan something nice for the two of you for the instant you touch down wherever you’re going. Stop letting Andrea get the better of you. It’s been too long for that.”
I keep my face stone-cold for as long as I can, then I grin at Dahlia. “You always have a plan, don’t you?”
She grins back. “At least one of us does.”
It’s Monday, and as far as Kennedy knows, we’re taking off on Friday after work. Those plans are set in stone, and I’ve already booked a hefty chunk of the resort where we’ll be staying. It’s another private villa, on its own stretch of white sand beach, and I have no doubt she’s going to love it.
But after what happened at the wedding, I need to go even farther. I need to go bigger. And lunch with Dahlia was enough to clear my head. I know what to do.
First things first, though, and I need to send her a message.
Not long now, pretty thing.
It takes her almost twenty minutes to reply, and I wonder if she’s been at lunch or if things are in high gear at the agency. If it wouldn’t be a huge pain in the ass, I’d buy the agency out right now so I could give her all the time off she wanted, but being a billionaire doesn’t always make mergers and acquisitions go any faster. Certainly not by this afternoon, which is when I really would like to have Kennedy on the plane and ready to go—in more ways than one.
Four days is a long time...
We could leave tonight.
You could leave tonight…I have a job that needs my attention :/
Is it the busy season?
It’s always a busy season, but this week everybody wants their winter plans finalized.
What about fall?
Only the last-minute emergency fall plans.
So they’d miss you if you left?
They’re already not pleased that I’m leaving on Friday.
I’m pleased that you’re leaving on Friday.
I’m more than pleased to be leaving on Friday. I’m EXCITED!
I hope you’re not being sarcastic...
Ha!
Don’t worry about packing.
Thank God. I was worrying about packing.
I love sending messages to Kennedy. She’s got a drier wit via text than she does in person, and getting to experience it is one of the nicer pleasures on days like today.
Come stay at my place tonight.
That’s a bad idea and you know it, Gideon Hawke.
It sounds like a good idea to me...
It sounds like a good way to get fired to me.
You think I won’t give you a ride to work?
I think I won’t LET you give me a ride to work if I come over tonight. I’ll be too tired in the morning to even THINK about going to work, after a night in your bed...
Who said anything about my bed? I said my place.
You should have been a stand-up comedian.
It doesn’t pay as well as being the CEO of my own business empire.
But it would be more fulfilling, right?
I laugh out loud. Dahlia pokes her head in from the outer office. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great. Thanks to you.” She narrows her eyes. “Really. You’ve transformed my mental attitude for the better.” Another message comes in from Kennedy.
I’ve got to get back to work.
Me, too. I’m planning a surprise for you.
Now you’ve ruined it...
Ruined what?
The surprise.
You have no idea what it is. How could it possibly be ruined?
Because I know it’s coming. Don’t you know anything about surprises?
I guess not. But I know about you...
Keep your mind out of the gutter.
Never.
Fair.
Talk to you soon, pretty thing.
35
Kennedy
It’s a long, long week at the agency, and by the time I board Gideon’s plane at the airport, my eyes are burning. He gives me a long look and points toward the bedroom. “That’s where you’re headed as soon as we reach cruising altitude.”
In the meantime, I settle back into one of the plush leather seats in the main cabin and rest my head on his shoulder. “Where to this time?”
“No questions, please. I already ruined one surprise.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m mainly asking so I know how long I have to nap.”
“You can nap for as long as you want. If we land before you w
ake up, I’ll have you carried to—” He cuts himself off abruptly. “I’ll have you carried to our true destination like Sleeping Beauty.”
“I don’t think anybody carried her around,” I say with a yawn. “I think she slept in that same spot for a hundred years.”
He kisses my temple. “You’re right. Who am I to argue with you about fairy tales?”
I mean to reply, but my eyes droop closed. The last thing I hear is the whir of the engines as we take off, and then there’s only silence.
I wake up sometime later, my seat fully reclined, a pillow under my head, and a soft blanket pulled up to my shoulders. Gideon is nowhere to be seen—for about five seconds, and then he’s sliding into the seat next to me.
“You’re right on time.” His face is relaxed, with none of that odd post-wedding tension, and he looks perfectly refreshed.
I stretch, yawning one more time. “For what?”
“To land.”
“You let me sleep the entire flight?” I can’t find my phone—is it in my purse, on the seat in the other aisle, or— “What time is it?”
Gideon checks his watch. “About ten.”
“We spent five hours in flight and you didn’t wake me up once to make a visit to the bedroom?”
“You looked too peaceful. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
There’s a new energy arcing through my muscles. One nap, and I’ve recovered from the week at work. Plus, the sight of Gideon makes me want to be awake all night.
“So where are we landing?”
“You’ll see.”
When the plane touches down, the pilot announces that we’ve landed on Virgin Gorda Island, and the local temperature is seventy-five degrees. I can’t help doing a little dance in my seat. “I love this place.”
“Don’t get too attached. We’re not staying.”
My heart sinks a little, and then I get a grip. Gideon hasn’t planned any old vacation. He’s been working on this for two weeks, and here I am, getting ahead of myself. “All right.”