Conference Call—Marketing Department. Libby must have set his clock when he said goodbye at the hospital. The woman was the definition of competent, vital to his success for keeping his life running smoothly.
If only Libby were here with him. Damn appendix. Striking her down in New York. He balled his hands. AJ couldn’t believe Libby had hidden her condition from him until it was almost too late. A foolish move, but one done out of loyalty to him. She knew how much he relied upon her. Or had until leaving him stuck with a nanny from Portland, Oregon.
If AJ didn’t know better, he would think his father planned this. But nothing, not a hospitalized assistant or a cat-carrying nanny, would stop AJ from showing his family how far he’d come. Nothing was going to stop him from making a triumphant return to Haley’s Bay.
Nothing at all.
* * *
Emma stepped outside the terminal, a sunny August sky overhead. Flying was safer during good weather, right?
But the roar of engines weighted her feet like chimney bricks.
For Libby. Step by dragged step, Emma crossed the tarmac toward a new-looking jet. Her heart pounded in her throat.
For Libby. Emma clasped the jet’s railing. Her legs trembled—don’t stumble—and she forced herself to climb the short staircase, one step, then another, followed by two more.
For Libby. Emma stepped into the plane. The hair on the back of her neck and arms prickled, ramrod straight beneath her sweater.
Noise from planes taking off and landing faded. Air-conditioning cooled her skin. The jet’s interior muted tones exuded calm comfort. The plush carpet and cushioned chairs were a hundred and eighty degrees different from flying on a packed 737 with zero legroom and no empty seats. This time might be different.
“Welcome aboard, Miss Markwell.” An attractive woman with long blond hair, a light blue blouse and navy slacks greeted her with a bright, white-tooth smile. “I’m Camille. I’ll be your flight attendant today.”
“Hi, I’m Emma.” She forced a first impression smile and raised the cat carrier, welcoming the distraction. “Is there a place this should go?”
“I have the perfect spot.” Camille took the carrier. “What’s your cat’s name?”
“Not my cat. She’s a foster. Long story. But her name is Blossom. Thank you.”
Camille peered into the carrier. “Hello, Blossom.”
The cat’s growl, a hair-raising, guttural sound, made Emma cringe.
Eyes wide, the flight attendant drew back. Her at-your-service smile faltered. She lifted the carrier away from her body as if radioactive waste filled the inside, then tipped her head to her left. “AJ’s in the cabin.”
“Thank you.”
Emma passed between two forward-facing leather-covered captain’s chairs. Each seat contained a television screen and game controller. The understated look was more luxurious man cave than flashy flaunt of wealth.
The next row faced backward. Someone with a head of thick brown hair occupied the seat to her left.
Attila. Atticus. AJ. This had to be him.
Libby thought the world of her boss, when she wasn’t complaining about AJ. She described him as exacting. “Workaholic” was how Emma imagined him, based on how many hours he kept Libby working. And prompt. Libby said he would fire a manager if a project went over schedule, break up with a woman if she arrived late for a date and eviscerate a chef if forced to wait between courses.
Not everything Emma had heard about AJ Cole was awful. He paid employees well, was a philanthropist and doted on his grandmother, who visited him in Seattle at least once a month. The guy couldn’t be all bad if he was throwing his grandma an eightieth birthday party—make that a soiree.
Voices sounded. Three or four.
Emma didn’t see anyone else on board. She stepped closer.
The brown-haired man sat with a tablet in front of him. Three other faces appeared on the screen. One, a woman, spoke about branding.
Emma glanced from the tablet to her temporary boss. Whoa. A six-foot-plus mass of male hotness sat in the seat. A guy with no beard.
She blinked. Refocused. Still hot. Definitely AJ. She recognized his intense green eyes from the photographs.
Yum. Libby called her boss a nice piece of eye candy, but now that Emma was standing next to AJ Cole, he seemed more like a five-pound box of gourmet chocolates. Mouthwateringly delicious.
His gray suit jacket, expertly tailored, accentuated straight, wide shoulders. Unruly brown hair, curly at the ends, fringed the starched collar of his white dress shirt. His ruggedly handsome features fit perfectly together, making her heart accelerate like a car on a racetrack.
His smoldering gaze met hers.
Her throat tightened. She wished he hadn’t shaved his beard so she wouldn’t find him attractive. Then again, she still might. A photograph couldn’t capture the 3-D version of the living, breathing man.
He motioned with his finger to the seat facing him. A small table separated the two chairs.
Emma removed the tote bag strap from her shoulder and sat. She ignored the conversation from the conference chat, not wanting to eavesdrop. She pressed each button to see what it did. Peering inside the pouch on the side of her seat, she saw a barf bag. She hoped she wouldn’t need it.
The decibel level of the conference call rose. Voices talked over one another. Not quite a debate, but a lively discussion.
Her gaze fell on AJ’s face. Talk about stunning. He laughed at a joke, softening the planes, angles and lines of his face. She focused on his mouth, zeroed in on his lips. Bet he was a good kisser.
What in the world was she doing? Thinking? AJ wasn’t only her boss. He was also Libby’s boss.
Emma looked at her lap. The seat belt ends lay on either side of her. She fastened the buckle and tightened the strap, as if the pressure could squeeze out her nonsensical thoughts before she embarrassed Libby and herself.
So what if the real-life AJ Cole was more attractive than his photographs? He was her boss, not a random guy she could flirt with at Starbucks then breeze out the door without a look back. Besides, he wasn’t her type. She preferred a family man. Not a guy who, according to Libby, hadn’t visited his family in ten years.
“Don’t do that.” AJ’s hard tone made Emma jump. “If any of you disturb Libby while I’m away, you won’t have a job when I return. Understood?”
Not so bad. Emma hadn’t expected him to stick up for Libby.
“See you on Monday,” he added.
The words Don’t bother me were implied.
He tucked his tablet into the side pocket of his seat. “Emma Markwell.”
His deep voice flowed through her veins like
