Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(48)

“I’m not sure if there’s cell service there,” he offered, realizing that wouldn’t go any way toward placating her obviously agitated best friend.

“He doesn’t know if there’s cell service,” she parroted. Silence. “He is not an ax murderer.” More silence. “Because I just know!”

Jack chuckled. He liked that she had a friend who looked after her like this. After this trip, when they were done…well, it was good to know she had Danny.

She held the phone away from her ear in parody as Danny talked on.

“Put him on speaker.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Just do it,” he said.

She obeyed and he said, “Danny, hi. This is Jack. The not-ax-murderer.”

“Isn’t that what they all say?” came the droll reply.

“Listen, I’ll give you my phone number. Then when I murder Cassie, you can at least give that to the cops.” He was joking, but Danny was right. He should have a way to contact Jack—and vice versa—in case something happened. Danny was pretty much Cassie’s next of kin from what Jack could tell. Especially given that her actual next of kin was so completely useless. He rattled off his digits. “And do me a favor. Send me a text, and then I’ll have your number, too. I promise to call if anything happens.”

Danny gave him a hard time for another minute, issuing a couple of melodramatic threats that made Cassie roll her eyes and Jack struggle to hold in laughter.

“It’s so pretty here,” said Cassie after they’d hung up, watching the snowcapped trees pass as they zoomed along the nearly empty highway. “You kind of forget how pretty snow can be. You get so used to the ugly gray urban variety.”

“Do you ski? No time on this trip, but we’re not too far beyond Blue Mountain.” Then he realized it sounded like he was suggesting they ski together. “You should come back sometime,” he added lamely.

She shook her head and laughed, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief that she hadn’t misinterpreted what he’d said. “To ski you have to get out of the city.”

“And you don’t do that much, I take it?”

“Nope.”

She worked too hard. People said that about him, but at least his work necessarily sent him to other locations, forced a change of scenery on him every now and then. “When was the last time you got away?”

“Never.”

“You mean like literally never?” Was that even possible?

“Yup.”

“You’ve never been out of Toronto.”

“Well, I did go to Niagara Falls on a class trip when I was twelve. And I’ve been to Danny’s mom’s farm, which is an hour north of Peterborough,” she said, naming a town a couple hours east of Toronto. She crinkled her nose. “I’m not planning to repeat that mistake, though.”

He was shocked. Though why should he be? She didn’t have any money, thanks to her mother. Between school and Edward’s, she worked nearly constantly. How was she supposed to get away? Too bad he hadn’t known—they could have tacked on a couple non-business days to this trip. His mind began cataloguing all Winter Enterprises’ properties, trying to figure out which she would like best.

No. He checked himself—he was doing it again. There was no “after this trip.” What came next was that they shook hands and parted ways, he having gained a company and an island, her fifty grand richer. Maybe, though, he would send her and Danny on a trip to one of his sites. It could be the bonus he’d promised if the deal went through.

He slowed as they pulled into Gravenhurst. “I thought we’d have a meal here—late breakfast, early lunch, whatever you want to call it. It’s about another hour to the spot where we set out for the island.”

Cassie smiled. “Great. I’m starving.”

The image of Cassie devouring pizza on her bed flashed through his mind. She ate, like everything else she did, with gusto and delight.

He shifted in his seat. God damn, it was going to be a long trip—and it had barely even started.

…

Everything was so pretty. Gravenhurst seemed to Cassie like a pretend town. Something out of a Lifetime Television movie, all quaint and decorated for Christmas. They’d had amazing homemade pancakes at a diner, served by a sweet older woman who called them both “hon.” The snow squeaked under her feet, white and pristine. She was glad she’d sprung for a serious pair of boots. She’d figured with fifty grand coming her way, she could afford to outfit herself sensibly for the trip.

Even the air seemed different. Colder, yes, but also fresher. Jack had rented a Jeep Grand Cherokee in town, having arranged to leave his own car at the rental office. She’d teased him at the time that he was not a “Jeep” person, but she was glad now he’d made the switch. The Aston Martin would never have made it through the icy, rutted lanes that Jack was expertly navigating. And, in truth, she was enjoying the ride. The bumping and vrooming of the engine felt kind of like a carnival ride.

She had to remind herself, as they turned from a small road onto an even smaller one, that she was on a business trip. It was tempting to get sucked into the fantasy that this was her life—that she had a rich, handsome, Jeep-driving boyfriend who could make her feel all squishy just by looking at her with his signature brand of intensity.