Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(19)

I put my phone into my breast pocket and gave border patrol my passport. I needed to work out a quicker way of getting through security. There were too many VIPs if it meant I had to wait in line.

As I made my way to baggage, I wondered why she hadn’t given me her number. From the number of orgasms I’d given her, I was confident that she’d enjoyed the f*cking, so why had she disappeared? Perhaps she was married and I’d misjudged her. My gut twisted. Misjudging women was not something I ever wanted to do again.

Jesus, I wanted to be home already. I was done with this week.

I took my phone out again and started scrolling. Perhaps I’d missed her entry. I scrolled right to the top of my contacts and saw it. Airport Orgasm. I grinned and my shoulders released. Funny as well as sexy. Ordinarily, I got the measure of women very quickly. I applied the same analytical skills in my sex life as I did in the workplace. My ex-fiancée, Alicia, had taught me that it was easy to misjudge a woman, and when she left me, I vowed never to do it again. So it was important to me to understand a woman really quickly. If they were after my money, it wouldn’t stop me from f*cking them, but I needed to know ahead of time. I wouldn’t get caught out again.

Beth was the first woman since Alicia I couldn’t pin down, or figure out. At first she was shy and nervous, but that had disappeared and the sexuality she cloaked when fully clothed caught back up with her and she seemed to enjoy f*cking as much as I did—she hadn’t faked anything. But she was full of contradictions. Where did her money come from for her to fly first class? It didn’t fit—she didn’t seem like the spoiled heiress type. And her obsession with cake was unusual. I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand all her apparent inconsistencies.

I’d become accustomed to being used for my money, but perhaps Beth was using me for my dick. I wasn’t sure I’d mind—I just wanted to know.

Dylan: Airport Orgasm? Were you thinking it wouldn’t stand out in my phone?

I grinned as I waited for her reply. And waited. And waited some more. My muscles bunched as I considered that she might never reply. Shit. Was it too much to call her?

I spotted my suitcase on the other side of the carousel, slipped my phone back into my pocket as I retrieved my luggage, and then I headed for the exit.

My driver, Don, always parked in the same place, so I made my way to where he would be waiting. Don was taciturn and although he’d worked with me for nearly two years, I knew almost nothing about him, which was why I liked him. Relationships that were uncomplicated and without emotion suited me. If I got to know him and he had a dying mother, or a sick kid, I’d feel an obligation to take some kind of responsibility and that wasn’t what I was looking for.

I slid in to the back seat and pulled out my phone. I was like a f*cking teenager, trying to get the pretty girl to notice me.

I didn’t really know what it took to woo a woman successfully—I’d never had to try. Apart from my relationship with Alicia, there’d been no one serious. No one who had caught my interest. Mandy was a great, regular one-night stand, and I liked it that way. She didn’t require work. None of the women I’d slept with since Alicia did, and that wasn’t a coincidence.

Alicia. Hers wasn’t a name I allowed to seep into my brain very often. And it wasn’t that Beth reminded me of her. Physically, they were totally different. Alicia had been a fierce redhead. Beth was soft and sexy, and had the ability to pierce the armor I wore. No one had done that since Alicia. It was just a pinprick but I felt it all over. The effect of her was disturbing and compelling in equal measure.

Fuck it—I’d call.

I pressed dial, half wondering if I should have waited until I’d got home. Don didn’t give a shit who I f*cked, but I wanted our conversation to be private, and definitely didn’t want to be blown off in front of my driver.

Straight to voice mail. I shook my head. I was being an idiot.

I needed to get my shit together.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

“Hey. Did you get that proposal?” Raf asked.

“I just got into the car. I haven’t checked my emails yet. Any clear conclusions?” The business Raf and I had founded straight after college owned a bunch of companies. We’d started small, buying a failing tire company in Missouri the same year Alicia and I’d gotten engaged. We bought it for a dollar and took on a pile of debt, but after two years, we sold it for 3.5 million, debt free. The next business we bought for two million dollars and turned into a ten-million-dollar company in twenty months. Success was addictive—and we got used to it quickly.

As we got bigger, we had teams of people implementing turnaround plans across a portfolio of companies. Raf and I were in the middle of our annual strategic review, the time of year where we decided which companies we were going to keep, and which were ripe for a sale.

“I think things are pretty much where we expected. Except for Raine Media. WCIL TV in Chicago has lost a ton of viewers. I’m not sure media is our bag. They haven’t hit their numbers again and I think management has lost focus.”

“We might need to cut our losses. I’ll take tires over television any day of the week.” It had been Raf’s idea to buy a media company. I’d gone along with it—he had a sharp eye—but I’d never really been convinced.

“Take a look at it. I think it’s beyond hope.”