Well, it didn’t matter what Ethan did with people he was about to sleep with. She’d never owed him anything, including her real name. She swallowed and forced a light tone. “Shall we?”
“Of course.” He glanced at her suitcase. “Is that all?”
“I had my other bags Fed Ex’d to my hotel.” She’d gotten one of the analysts to do the honors of sending her real bags directly to Virginia under a managing director’s name. Then at Hong Kong International Airport she’d checked two large empty suitcases, and as soon as US customs cleared them in Dulles she’d handed them to the airline luggage workers and hit the ladies’ room to change. The private investigators would report everything to her family in great detail. It was important they didn’t know what she was up to—that she was leaving Hong Kong for good.
Ethan nodded. “May I?”
He put his hand over hers on the smooth luggage handle. The instant of skin-to-skin contact felt shockingly good. Precisely because of this, she pulled away as if scalded.
He tossed the sign into the nearest trash can and led her into the parking structure, one hand dragging her bag and the other on her elbow, the contact courteous yet somehow more than that. He moved with confidence and an animal grace that said he was utterly comfortable in his body. This close, she could smell mouth-watering warm dark spice and male flesh. She wanted to lean into him, just melt against his towering height and strength. The thought sent a fissure of shock through her. This wasn’t like her.
On the other hand, Ethan wasn’t like any of the other men she’d dealt with.
Men didn’t crowd her like this. When they came to her, it was because they needed something impersonal, such as an opinion on a merger or help with a spreadsheet. Even the ones she’d dated wouldn’t have taken her arm after she’d withdrawn a hand, not without an encouraging signal from her first, which she hadn’t always given. Relationships, when she had them, required careful planning and management.
Ethan had triggered her finely honed radar for unsuitable men. He would not only demand at least fifty percent input on both the planning and management, but expect more than what she was comfortable giving. As tempting as he was, those two things disqualified him from the pool of potential dating candidates, which was why she’d snuck out the morning after their one-night stand.
A subsequent encounter with a friend of his had further confirmed she’d made the right choice.
He wants you. Come on, Jacqueline. You work your ass off for shitty pay. He’s fucking loaded. Why not give him a call and see where things go?
Had either of them thought so poorly of her? That she’d date a man so she could live the easy life?
Working every second of her free time to pay for her college education hadn’t meant she was in need of a sugar daddy. If she’d wanted easy money, she would’ve run to her family. They redefined the term loaded.
Kerri shook off the memory. No point in letting it bother her. If Natalie th
ought Ethan was good enough to pick her up, then everything was cool. Natalie was an excellent judge of character. She’d probably sent Ethan for his mad driving skills.
They reached a shiny black BMW with temporary tags and he opened the door for her, then picked up her suitcase like it was loaded with helium and put it in the trunk. So. All that new muscle wasn’t just for show.
She settled into the soft seat. Her fingertips tingled as they brushed over the smooth, luxurious leather. His car didn’t have any personal clutter, not even a single receipt. But then it had that new car smell. He probably just hadn’t had a chance to put his mark on it yet.
He got in, closing the door with a solid thunk, and turned the engine on. A powerful purr vibrated through her skirt.
The pleasant, warmly slick feeling between her legs must be from that, not from Mr. Gorgeous sitting next to her. No, not quite sitting, but not slumping either. She couldn’t come up with an exact term for the posture, but he looked sort of boneless and utterly relaxed in his seat.
“You’re at the Marriott, right?” he asked, maneuvering his car out of the parking garage. His large hands hooked casually around the steering wheel.
“Yeah, the one not too far from Natalie’s.” She checked her phone and rattled off the address. “Guess she told you?”
He nodded.
“So, what are you?” She wanted to understand the mystery that was Ethan. If she knew, maybe she wouldn’t respond to him so strongly. It had to be the process of solving a puzzle that was intriguing her, not the puzzle itself.
He glanced over. She almost tugged on the hem of her skirt. Wearing the feminine clothing had seemed to make perfect sense earlier, when her primary objective was to lose the PIs her family had sicced on her. They’d never seen her in anything but power suits—with trousers, of course.
She hated how the skirt left her legs three-quarters bare and the baby tee clung to her torso. She couldn’t have felt more exposed if she’d been sitting next to Ethan in her underwear.
His lips twitched in a suppressed smile as though he knew how much his presence unbalanced her. “What am I? I’m the guy who’s picking you up from the airport.”
“You’re not a driver,” she said, deciding to focus on anything but her discomfiture. The drive would end soon enough, then she could change into something that would shield her better. “You’re also not Natalie’s friend because I would’ve heard about you. So I’ll ask again: what are you?”
He chuckled. “I was the best man at her wedding.”
Which probably made him the groom’s best friend. Since Natalie’s husband, Alex Damon, was one of the richest men in the world, Ethan must also be a member of the same upper echelon. Maybe “fucking loaded” hadn’t been an exaggeration. “Have the best man’s duties expanded to include picking up the bride’s friends from the airport weeks after the ceremony?”
“I owed her one.” His tone said the topic was finished. “And you?”