I follow him out the door.
“Nice to meet you, Mel,” he says right before I shut it.
He’s carrying my bag in one hand, which completely astonishes me because I know how much it weighs. The driver opens the back, and Luke deposits it into the SUV. I quickly climb into the back row through the open door.
Silence envelops the car as we head out of the city. The traffic is a slow, Friday evening crawl. It’s nearly dinnertime, and my stomach starts to rumble loudly. I’m mortified at the sound, faking a cough to cover it up.
“Let’s stop at Moria’s,” Luke says to the driver, whose bald head bobs in the rearview.
“Do you like burgers?”
I nod.
“I’m starving. Theirs are the best in the city, but I don’t have the patience to drive here unless I have somewhere to be on this side of town.”
I nod again, hands clasped in my lap.
He calls in an order for three burgers and fries, getting a side of onion rings and grilled jalapeños. The driver runs inside the tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant to grab it.
I wish he’d turned on the radio first. All I can think about is my failed attempt at seduction earlier this week, the elevator moment today, and Becky’s confusing revelation. It feels hot enough in here to bake cookies.
“I didn’t realize you were drunk,” he says out of the blue.
I tilt my head toward him as he suddenly picks up where we left off in the elevator. He’s still wearing the sunglasses, looking out at the passing cars.
“I’m kind of a lightweight.”
“You seemed...barely tipsy. I wouldn’t have—I don’t usually take women home.”
It dawns on me that he thinks I was too inebriated to be capable of making the decision to sleep with him.
“Oh, you didn’t—I was fine with it. I mean, yeah, I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to approach you without the liquid audacity, but I wanted to jump your bones when I first walked in.”Big mistake, clearly.
I clap my hand over my mouth as he turns toward me.
Why don’t I carry a muzzle around for myself?
He’s staring at my mouth as the car door opens and the driver appears.
“Shit, I had to wait forever for the onion rings.”
Private jets aresomething I’ve only ever seen in movies, but his doesn’t exactly look like any of those.
As I walk up the stairs, I notice windows around the outside that look much different than the ones a commercial airplane has. Once inside, I realize that they form skylights from the floor up and around to the ceiling.
“This is the small one, but you can have the bedroom.”
I try not to let my jaw hit my knees at his words.Airplanes have bedrooms?
He collapses into the cream leather seat as a redheaded woman in a tight uniform approaches with a sultry smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Bradshaw. Can I interest you in a beverage?”
Or anything he might want, I imagine . . .
“Bourbon. Miss Dawson?” He looks up at me as I take the seat across from him.
“Wine?”
