The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(22)

“Why is this bag so big?” I snap. “This isn’t a handbag, this is luggage.”

Kate frowns and throws her arm over her face. “Just. Shut. Up,” she whispers.

I put her handbag over my shoulder and grab her hand and pull her to her feet; she’s still disoriented and staggers to the side. I put my arm around her. “Come on, stand up. Focus.”

She looks up at me all sleepy, her hair wild and messed up, and an unwelcome smile crosses my face.

“What?” She frowns.

“Do you know how dopey you look right now, Landon?”

“And I’m . . . in my red netball . . . dress,” she slurs.

I smile as I lead her to the elevator. “What a pity.”





Chapter 5


I slowly lead her to the elevator and I hit the button. She sways and I put my arm around her to hold her up. “Stay still.”

She looks up at me and I smirk as I look down at her.

“Don’t,” she slurs as she falls to the side.

I pull her back against my body. “Don’t what?”

“An”—her eyes flutter—“noy me.”

I chuckle. “Impossible.” The doors open and I lead her in and we turn and face the front. She puts her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes. I catch sight of us in the reflection on the doors: now that’s something I never thought I’d see.

Kathryn Landon, sleepy and calm, under my arm.

The doors open into the lobby and I slowly walk her out; she’s so docile.

“Is everything alright, sir?” The security guard comes running.

“She’s groggy, had a reaction to some medication.”

“Can I do anything?” he splutters as he looks between us.

“No, thank you, I’ll see that she gets home safely.”

He practically runs for the door and he holds it open for us.

My Bentley is parked in the bay outside, and Andrew gets out and frowns as he sees me nearly carrying Kate. “What’s wrong with her?” he asks.

“Just groggy, a reaction to medication, we’ll get her home.”

He opens the back door in a rush.

“In the car,” I say to Kate.

She closes her eyes as her head leans against my chest. “I’m just going to . . . walk.”

Fuck’s sake.

I put my hand on the top of her head and push her down, maneuver her into the right position, and then with one almighty shove she falls into the backseat.

“Ow.” She grimaces.

I shuffle in beside her and close the door. “Where do you live?” I ask as we pull out into the traffic.

She points out of the window. “Over there.”

“Over where?”

“Out. There,” she snaps as if exasperated.

I roll my eyes; even when drugged this woman is annoying. “Tell me your address or I’m looking through your luggage again.”

“It’s twenty-four . . .” She frowns and holds her finger up. “No wait, that’s my old address . . . ummmm.”

“Christ almighty.” I drag my hand down my face in frustration.

“I know it,” she continues.

“And?”

“It’s . . . forty-four/a Kent Road.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sshh, stop talking,” she whispers as she holds her finger up to her lips in an overexaggerated way. “You’re hurting my ears.” She points with both hands to her ears.

I smirk at her acting out every word.

“Forty-four Kent Road,” I say to Andrew.

“Sure thing, boss.” He turns right at the next junction.

Kate’s head falls and I pull her back under my arm and hold her close. She closes her eyes and rests against my chest.

We drive for ten minutes in the traffic and then she falls deeper into sleep and puts her hand up on my chest and nestles in tight.

I frown down at her as a weird feeling comes over me.

Hmm . . . interesting.

After a while, Andrew pulls the car into a parking space, then he turns and looks at us. “This is it.”

I frown as I peer at the old terraced building. “This is it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Kate,” I whisper; she stays asleep and I give her a little shake. “Kate,” I whisper again.

“If you’re trying to wake her, you don’t need to whisper,” Andrew mutters.

“Eyes on the road,” I snap.

Smart-ass.

He chuckles as he gets out, and opens the back door on my side. I climb out and then lean back in. “Kate,” I say loudly. “Wake up, we’re home.”

Andrew reaches in to help.

“I’ve got this,” I say.

She frowns as she comes to and looks around sleepily. “Huh.”

I hold my hand out to her and she takes it and I pull her over toward me, but she slips off the seat and onto the floor of the car. “Oh . . .”

I chuckle as I reach down for her, she’s all legs and arms and tangled up. “That red dress a little slippery, old girl?”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath.

I take her hand, pull her out of the car and wrap my arm around her. We slowly walk up the six steps leading to the terrace.