“You sound like my mother.”
She shrugged. “Sharon and I talk.”
“Stop,” I advised, “before it turns you.”
“You know, you actually have to pack those.” She cocked her head at the two suitcases angled toward us by the door, and I stifled a small shudder. I was starting to feel like they were watching me, like they knew I didn’t have enough nice things to fill them.
“That’s the least of my problems,” I stalled. “Did I tell you he’s flying us there on his own little plane?”
My blood ran cold at the prospect. Aside from sharks and certain types of shellfish, I had no bigger fear in the world than flying. I had successfully avoided it almost my entire life, routinely convincing increasingly suspicious friends that a road trip would be much more fun than hurling our bodies at breakneck speeds through the air. The only time I hadn’t managed to talk my way out of it, I’d tripped on the moving sidewalk in the terminal, careened into a glass railing, and spend most of the actual flight drifting in and out of consciousness as anxious flight attendants hovered above. Needless to say, it had been a one-way ticket.
“Wow, no you didn’t.” Amanda’s eyes grew wide. “Can’t exactly road trip to the islands, can you? But it’s a private jet. Won’t that make it better?”
I threw up my hands in despair. “No! Would you rather place your life in the hands of something really big—full of people you can sacrifice and eat in case it crashes—or something really, really small? So small that they won’t find it when it slips into the warm waters north of Cuba, and the occupants are preyed upon by bull sharks and—”
“And mollusks, yeah I hear you.” She nodded knowingly, cooling my rising panic before it could really get off the ground. “Fortunately, your brilliant best friend already anticipated this little snag, and I packed you one hell of a carry-on...”
Chapter 19
As per my instructions, I had my cab pull up along a back entrance I never knew existed at LAX and made my way past the main hangers to a smaller runway full of town cars and tiny private planes. Instead of metal detectors and frazzled-looking parents, there were mini-red carpets and floating trays of champagne. A stately porter wearing a suit that cost as much as my car pulled my bags from the trunk before I’d even realized what was happening, and the second I set foot on the tarmac, I was under siege.
“Miss White, did you remember your passport?”
“Miss White, were you able to take a look at the itinerary we sent over?”
“Miss White, are you by chance allergic to mushrooms?”
I rotated around, mumbling confused, half-formed answers, when I suddenly saw Marcus walking toward me from behind the plane. My face broke into a huge smile and I realized, with a bit of relief, that I was actually excited to see him. I wasn’t sure if I would be after our rather abrupt farewell on the beach. In truth, I didn’t know what I would be feeling.
That was one of the reasons I had come prepared.
The second he saw me smile, his face brightened with a huge, boyish grin. He must have been as nervous as I was.
“Miss White,” he mimicked the tone of the minions as he got closer, “has anyone told you that you look absolutely ravishing today?”
“Why, Mr. Taylor, aren’t you the sweetest? Thank you so much for the lovely compliment.” I couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. “Damn, your eyes are gorgeous. I could get so lost in them.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re so fine. I can see why you have your choice of women. What woman wouldn’t want to jump your bones? Hell, I wouldn’t mind joining the Mile-High Club with you right about now.” I squeezed his butt. “Interested?”
I think I might have slurred that last part.
His whole face changed in an instant. “This isn’t like you at all. Are you drunk?”
I dropped my voice conspiratorially. “Um, maybe a little. Not a lot. Just a little. Trust me, it’s better this way.”
“Why?”
“You see, I have this fear of flying. And I almost didn’t come. But then I didn’t want to disappoint you. We made a deal, and I knew I had to get my ass to the Caribbean. I hope you’re not mad at me.”
“I’ve been drunk a few times myself. Guess the shoe is on the other foot.”
“Mr. Taylor,” the pilot interrupted.
Marcus put his arm almost protectively around my shoulders as I swayed slightly in place.
“We’re ready for takeoff when you are,” the pilot said.