Beautiful Bitch(25)

I maneuvered through the crowd, through the throngs of stranded passengers taking up virtually every flat surface in the Provence Airlines terminal, and stopped at a tiny alcove near the restrooms.

“Hi.”

“What the f*ck do you mean ‘stuck in New York’?!” he shouted.

I winced, pulling the phone from my ear before taking a much-needed calming breath.

“It means exactly what you think it means. We’ve been grounded, no flights in or out. I’m having a few people check with Delta and a few other airlines, but I’m sure everyone else has already done that, too.”

“This is unacceptable!” he roared. “Do they know who you are? Let me talk to someone.”

I laughed. “Nobody here knows or cares who I am. Or you for that matter.”

He was silent for a moment, long enough that I actually looked to see if I’d dropped the call. I hadn’t. The sound of birds singing filled the line, a wind chime off in the distance. When he finally did speak, it was in that low, steady voice I’d become so accustomed to. The one that still sent goose bumps along my skin. The one he used when he meant business.

“Tell them to get your ass on a plane,” he said, enunciating every word.

“Everything is overbooked on every plane, Bennett. What the hell do you want me to do? Catch a ride on a boat? Use a portkey? Simmer down, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

He groaned, and I could tell the moment he realized he couldn’t argue or charm his way out of this. “But when?”

“I don’t know, babe. Tomorrow, maybe? The next day? Soon, I promise.”

With a resigned sigh he asked, “So what now?” I heard the sound of a door opening and closing, the tinkle of soft music in the background.

“We wait.” I sighed. “I’ll get a room, maybe get some work done. Maybe I can check out those apartments while I’m here. And then I promise, the first available flight out of here? I’m on it. Even if I have to take out a few businessmen with the heel of my shoe—I’ll get there.”

“You bet your ass you will,” he said.

I shook my head to clear it from the sound of his commanding voice. “So tell me about the house. Is it as gorgeous as I imagine?”

“Better. I mean, your company would obviously improve it, but damn. Max really outdid himself on this one.”

“Well, try and enjoy it. Sit in the sun, swim, read something trashy. Walk around barefoot.”

“Walk around barefoot? That’s an unusual request, even for you.”

“Humor me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I grinned. “Damn, I think I like this side of you. Pretty sexy when you take orders, Ryan.”

He laughed softly into the phone. “Oh, and Chloe?”

“Hmm?”

“I hope you didn’t pack any panties. You won’t be needing them.”



I spent the rest of the day at the airport, praying for a miracle or a flight to France. I got neither.

It took hours to locate my luggage, so by the time I finally walked through the door of my hotel room, I was ready to pass out. With the time difference it was too late, or too early, to call Bennett, so I’d sent him a short text while I ran myself a bath and ordered a bottle of wine, along with anything containing chocolate, from the room service menu.

I’d just climbed into the large tub—wineglass and chocolate cheesecake balanced precariously on the edge—when my phone rang. My hand fumbled around on the tile floor until I found it, and a smile filled me when Bennett’s face lit up the screen.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” I said.

“Bed’s too big.”

I smiled at his sleepy voice. This was the Bennett who would roll over in the middle of the night, limbs warm and heavy, sweet words mumbled into my skin. He’d always been so much better at all of this than I had, even from the beginning.

“What are you doing?” he asked, bringing my attention back to the phone.

“Bubble bath,” I said, and grinned at the sound of his groan on the other end of the line.

“No fair.”

“What about you?”

“Just going over some paperwork.”

“Did you find my note?

“Note?”

“I left you something.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hmm. Check your laptop bag.”