Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(19)

I flushed a little at that. He was a control freak, was what he should have said. Strangely, that thought only ever turned me on. “Do you enjoy interior design? Or is it merely a necessary evil for you?”

He looked thoughtful. “I enjoy it. If I’m honest, I even enjoy shopping. Do you think less of me now?” I gave him a tiny, teasing smile. “Hardly. I far prefer these revelations to ones about you being an exhibitionist.”

He had begun to smile, and just like that, it died. He grew broodingly silent again as the plane was prepped and we took off.

“Do you think you’ll be able to accept my past? Or is it all just too sordid for you?” he finally asked quietly. His head was tilted back as he rested in his chair.

I blinked. “I suppose, as long as it is actually in the past, I could cope with it, if you’re always honest with me.”

He nodded, looking relieved, but oddly sad. “I will be. I have been. I’ve gone out of my way to tell you even the things I don’t want to, because you asked it of me. You just need to give me some time to prove it to you. To gain your trust.”

I thought about that as he went silent again.

The flight attendant was attentive, asking us if we needed anything mere seconds after we reached ten thousand feet.

She was beautiful, I noticed. Her hair was long and black, hanging straight down her back and parted down the middle, her features stunning. She had a slim but shapely figure. Her uniform was a plain black skirt with a fitted, almost too tight white dress shirt tucked in. She wore four inch red stilettos that she worked like a pro. I couldn’t have walked in those shoes to save my life.

I remembered James’s offer to hire me as his personal flight attendant. Was that how she had gotten the job? Did I want to know? The masochistic side of me certainly did.

“Have you slept with Helene?” I asked James, my tone very nearly idle.

He studied me. He hesitated, and I had my answer.

I looked out the window.

“Once, when she first hired on,” he said slowly. “She offered rather blatantly, and I accepted. We’ve been nothing but professional in the years since. Are you upset?”

“Is she a submissive?” I asked.

I heard his breath puff out in a frustrated sigh.

“It’s almost as if you’re toying with me, hinting that you might be jealous. I shouldn’t hold my breath, huh? No, she is not. We weren’t compatible in that way. I didn’t even consider it. As I said, it was years ago. I was more promiscuous then. She was beautiful and amenable, and it was enough, at the time.”

Ick, ick, ick, I was thinking. Ouch, ouch, ouch, was what I was feeling. “It doesn’t seem very professional, sleeping with your employees like that,” I said stiffly.

He covered my hand with his own. “It wasn’t. I don’t do anything like that anymore, even before I met you.”

“Will we be running into women you’ve slept with everywhere we go?” I asked.

He squeezed my hand. “Not everywhere, but occasionally, yes. If it bothers you too much, I could let her go, or reassign her. I hate to make you uncomfortable.”

I looked to where the flight attendant worked in her tiny galley. She had been nothing but professional and efficient.

“Does she hit on you anymore?” I asked.

“No. I told her quite clearly after the first time that it would not be happening again. She took it with grace. She is a real professional. But I will accommodate you, however you like. I want you in my life, and I will make any concessions needed to see that happen. Do I need to let her go?”

“Of course not,” I said, not looking at him. If we were having sex, he never would have allowed my looking away from him in such a way. He never would have allowed the distance it gave me. But, for whatever reason, he seemed to be giving me the control outside of the bedroom. “She seems to be good at her job.”

“She’s quite good. And always available to fly at a moment’s notice.”

“Where are you taking me?” I asked him, changing the subject. Talking about and looking at the other woman was depressing me, for obvious reasons.

“Wyoming,” he answered.

I blinked at him.

“It’s a fairly short flight, but there’s a bed in the back, if you want to get a little sleep. There’s also clothes and toiletries for you,” James went on.

“What’s in Wyoming?” I asked.

“I have a horse ranch there. It’s very secluded and peaceful. I thought it might be a nice reprieve for us, for a day or two.”

“You don’t need to work?” I asked him.

“I’m grooming a North American manager to take over some of my duties. I have micro-managed my businesses for too long, I’m recently realizing. I have a man who I believe is capable, so he should certainly be able to handle things for a few days. I need to be able to have a life outside of work. For once, I actually want that. So this will be a test for him. When I want to take a few days, or even a few weeks off, I want to leave things in capable hands.”

I hadn’t expected my casual question to elicit such an in-depth answer. He always surprised me, and unwillingly, I felt some of my walls weakening.

“I have to be back to work thursday night,” I told him.

He smiled at me, his mood lightened. “Yes, I know.”