His deep voice echoed in her head as if he’d spoken the words out loud. She’d thought texting would be “safer” than calling, because his sexy voice twisted up her insides and turned her legs to wet noodles,but if she could conjure him speaking in her mind, no form of communication was safe.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She shook her head. They were friends. Maybe not even that. Her choice.
And probably his too, these days.
She tapped out a response.
You never know.
Doubtful, but she enjoyed provoking him. Until their relationship had gone sideways, it had been built largely on teasingand taunting. Turned out, she had missed that over the years.
Fine. This is relevant. Why do I always have to go to DC when we “meet up?”
For their story, it made sense to stick as close to the truth as possible in case Glenn went overboard and started looking into their travel histories. Kurt had never been to Barbados, whereas she had flown to the States at least once a year to visit Terrelland to see how being “home” felt. So far, she’d always wanted to return to Barbados.
He didn’t answer for five minutes. She stared out the window at the lush green beyond the airport perimeter. Would they continue like this after he helped her rescue Rose? Could he forgive her and go back to being friends?
Her phone vibrated on her thigh.
I don’t like to fly.
As if anyone would believe thebig, tough former PJ who used to jump out of planes would be afraid of anything. Though, he had crashed… But he’d also agreed to come to the Caribbean for the party, so it couldn’t be that.
How do we explain you being engaged to a pilot?
TSA is annoying when you’re an amp.
Ah. She’d never thought about what it must be like to go through security now that he was disabled. He probably had toget the wand and the intrusive pat-down every time.
:-(So you’re marrying me for free charter service.
He replied instantly.
Why else?
Her smile dropped. He was being sarcastic. She got that, but this whole situation was messing with her. She didn’t want a boyfriend, or fiancé, or husband, but she still had a useless ego that took that hit hard.
What do I get out of the deal?
The glorythat is me. Obviously.
She smiled, but Christ. She needed to knock some sense into the parts of her body that thought this was foreplay.
I assume you mean your bank account and your biceps.
You like my biceps?
Who wouldn’t?
Because, honestly, they were palpitation-worthy.
What about me? I mean, besides owning a plane.
Fishing for compliments was unseemly. She deserved a smart-ass response.
Your freckles.
