Marry Screw Kill(11)

We’ll never find each other if—wait, how the hell am I supposed to know who he is?

James’ annoyance threw him into a fit and he forgot to give me even a vague description. I don’t know the color of his hair. How tall he is. Maybe he’s blond like James? I have no idea.

Once inside the airport terminal, I spot an empty, white Dunkin’ Donuts sack discarded on a seat. I grab the sack, pull a black pen out of my bag, and write in big letters:

SINCLAIR ELLIOTT

Next, I check the terminal arrival screens, see his plane has landed, and fan myself with the sack. My rush to meet Sinclair at the security gate has left me flushed.

Standing at the end of the long ramp, I watch several groups of people walk by. Families arriving to visit loved ones and business people returning from their long week away from home. I haven’t seen anyone Sinclair’s age, around twenty-three, so I keep the sack down for now.

In the distance, I notice a lone man, tall with dark brown hair. He progresses down the ramp in long, graceful strides while adjusting his computer bag. Walking with a purpose, he holds his head high, looking straight ahead, owning the space around him.

I observe the defined muscles of his legs as they flex and ripple beneath his tight, dark jeans. His fitted black T-shirt stretches painfully across his wide shoulders, appearing like a second skin. The label “drop dead gorgeous” wraps around him from head to toe.

As he moves closer to me, my heart beats faster and an unfamiliar sensation courses through my body. I have a desire to meet him, find out more about this man. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. No matter how hard I try, my eyes won’t leave his god-like form.

He is magnetic and masculine. I’ve never seen a man like him in Rochester.

I stand there like a zombie, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. When he lasers in on me, our eyes lock. He is this intense, dark type of beautiful. He is like hot and tempting sin.

Wait! He is Sin.

I’m not sure how I know it, but I am certain I’ve found Sinclair Elliott. Though … he resembles a Minnesota Viking football player more than a soon-to-be med student.

I hold up the sack with his name on it. With our eyes still fixed on each other, I place it beside my face. He breaks our stare and looks at my hands.

An amused smile forms on his lips as he saunters my way. I forget to breathe, or think, when he stops in front of me. He holds out his hand and tries to introduce himself, but the man towering over me has my heart racing.

He introduces himself as Sinclair and I mumble back a weak greeting. His eyes are a mesmerizing color, brown mixed with flecks of gold.

Lowering my head, I try to hide the embarrassing shades of red I’ve turned. I take a deep breath to regain my composure, raise my chin, and reach my hand out for the welcoming handshake. I want to touch this beautiful man.

After placing my hand in his, he brings mine to his full lips and gently kisses my knuckles. Each small kiss ignites a fire in places I felt would forever be dormant. My knees buckle, but I fight the urge to sway under his heady gaze. Reluctantly, I pull away, my hand still tingling from his touch.

My name rolls off his tongue and I imagine him saying it slower, moaning it with pleasure in my ear. My face burns hot with shame. I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this, shouldn’t be reacting this way.

What’s wrong with me? I have never had an immediate fascination with any man, and he’s the nephew of the man I’m marrying.

Sinclair expresses his concern over my skin’s new shade of crimson, I’m sure. He must think I’m crazy. Time to regroup and get myself together.

I search for the closest restroom. Thankfully, there’s one a few steps away. I ask him to excuse me for a few minutes and he smiles down at me. I almost collapse under the weight of his hypnotizing eyes.

I bolt toward the restroom as fast as my way-too-high heels will let me. I need distance from this polished, New York City charmer. Stat! I may be imagining it, but it feels like his eyes are burning holes through my dress as I walk away.

Fortunately, I’m the only one in the restroom. I lean against the porcelain sink to support my shaky legs and gather some cold water in my hands. I splash a small amount on my face and neck, then blot it off with a paper towel.

The mirror displays a woman unlike the teary-eyed one from earlier today. My cheeks glow, my eyes are excessively bright, stunned, my red lips parted in shock …

Damn. What the hell just happened?





Chapter Seven


Sin



Fifteen minutes.

That’s how long Harlow’s been in the bathroom, and how long I’ve paced across the greenish-gray carpet squares after our awkward introduction. We shook hands, said the customary hellos? then she appeared ill and dashed into a bathroom as if her life depended on it. But she’s been gone too long and I’m starting to get concerned.

I consider asking another woman to go into the bathroom to check on her. At six-two and being male, there isn’t a chance in hell I can sneak in without being noticed. Who knows what someone might think if they saw me in there?

Finally, I see her leaving the bathroom. She smiles at me in her shy way while deliberately avoiding eye contact. I find myself walking toward her, meeting her halfway, hoping she looks up at me. I want to see those eyes again.

I’m trying to understand how she ended up with my uncle. I can’t imagine her seeking out an older man and trying to pursue him. She has no game at all.