There’s a message from my mother, asking how I am, and as I type my reply, an email from Laurie pops up with the subject line, ‘FAMOUS’.
The email contains a screenshot. There’s Landon, opening the car door for me outside Jack’s hotel last night, and below it, part of an article.
New York hotelier and real estate mogul Landon Court spotted in a passionate clinch with a mystery lady in San Francisco.
All over New York, hearts are breaking as Landon Court is spotted with this mystery lady for the second time. We’re still trying to find out who she is, and how she managed to get the elusive bachelor on lockdown.
The screenshot is cropped after that last sentence. I glance up at Landon, who’s frowning at something he’s reading. I don’t have him on lockdown, although at the moment, I kind of wish I did.
He catches me staring at him. “You want to tell me something?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He smiles. “Then stop looking at me like that, or else I won’t be able to get anything done this morning.”
I pull in a sharp breath, helpless against the way even those simple words affect me. I turn back to my phone, finishing the reply to my mom and starting a messenger chat with Laurie.
Breakfast arrives, and right after we eat, Landon disappears to the library. I finish my chat with Laurie, giving her the latest updates while purposely neglecting to tell her anything about Jack’s visit. Then I get my Mac and start on a couple of revisions to the article, getting lost in my work, and not looking up until Landon emerges from the library some hours later.
I feel him looking at me, and when my eyes meet his, I briefly forget what I’m doing. It’s not just that he’s attractive, there’s a power that radiates from him that gets me every time. It’s obvious, just looking at him, that he’s a powerful man, a rich one, someone who controls a lot more than almost all of his peers. It’s obvious in his carriage, in everything about him.
And he wants me.
It’s in the way he’s looking at me, right now. My stomach tightens as his gaze warms my skin. It’s never going to be like this with anyone else, I realize, it’s just not possible.
I swallow. “Are you going to say something? Or are you going to keep looking at me like that?”
He folds his arms across his chest and leans back on the wall. “Looking at you like how?”
Like you’re a hypnotist and I’m your willing victim? Like you’re a vortex sucking me in? I shrug. “I don’t know. Like you can see inside me?”
“Believe me, I wish I could.”
I frown at the cryptic words, my eyes following him as he leaves his position by the wall to approach me. He comes to stand behind the sofa and leans over me. I can feel him behind me even before he touches me, his hand gently stroking my hair.
I set my Mac down beside me on the sofa, my eyes fluttering closed as I relax into his touch.
“I love your hair,” I hear him say, the words soft and slightly rough. “Sometimes it’s red, sometimes gold, and sometimes it’s both.” He lifts a few strands in his fingers and lets them fall back.
I shift in my seat, turning around to face him. Resting my chin on the back of the sofa, I look up at him. “Is that the only thing you love?”
His eyes darken. “You have no idea,” he says, straightening suddenly and pushing his hands into his pockets. “You should pack an overnight bag,” he tells me. “We’re leaving in about an hour.”
“You still won’t tell me where we’re going?”
He shakes his head. “You’ll see soon enough.”
I do as he says and pack a change of clothes and fresh underwear, changing into a pair of cream pants and a white linen blouse. I leave my hair down, joining him for the trip downstairs after applying mascara and lip-gloss. He’s dressed casually too. Pants and a short sleeved cotton shirt, which leaves his forearms exposed.
His hand curls possessively around my waist from the moment we leave the suite to when we get into the car. During the short ride, he’s busy talking on the phone, while I try to find something else to interest me other than the easy sexiness he exudes, and the overwhelming desire to do something about how much I want him, even now, in the car.
After a few minutes, we arrive at what looks like a private estate, or a club, and the car drops us off at the dock, where a long, gleaming, white boat is waiting in the water.
Landon is standing beside me, watching as the chauffeur carries our overnight bags inside the boat. “Do you like sailing?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I’ve never done it.”
He takes my hand, the small contact sending a small shock of excitement through me. “Well, come on then.”