the fact that Gage’s business saved them the expense of having to purchase their own modes of air travel.
* * *
Orchid Benjamin wasn’t overly impressed. The private aircraft had bold silver streaks trekking both sides of the fuselage to meet at the fin to form the letters VID. Not that the plane wasn’t dumbfoundingly impressive and then some, Orchid thought. What gnawed at her was that her fiancé hadn’t had the good taste and judgment to purchase one of his own.
“I mean, what are we gonna do on future trips?” Orchid asked the woman who had exited the limo behind her. “I know he doesn’t expect me to fly commercial.” She shivered as though the idea were too awful to dwell upon.
“He probably didn’t see the need, Ork.” Myrna pulled sunglasses from her head and perched them across the bridge of her nose. “What for? When his best friend has three of them?”
The rationale apparently pacified Orchid enough. She ran across the tarmac to greet her intended with a throaty—and, in Myrna’s opinion, theatrical—kiss.
Two men stood a few feet away from the affectionate couple. Myrna immediately cast them as friends of the groom. As the other men in her line of sight were in some variation of uniforms, it was a logical guess. From the way they stood back on long legs, hand over mouths, heads inclined toward each other, it also wasn’t hard to guess the topic of their private chatter.
Myrna had been part of enough staged photo settings to have a fairly passable grasp on reading body language. Yep, she thought, Ork’s rep had surely preceded her on the trip. The surge of an approaching engine caught her ear and Myrna let go of a bit more of her apprehension. She released a purely girlish shriek and hurried over to greet the fourth member of their circle.
“How’d you guys manage to swing leaving town without the entire local media descending?” Jeena Stewart placed a hand across her brow while observing the jet in the distance.
“They say Gage Vincent can swing anything.” Myrna dropped a kiss on Jeena’s cheek when they pulled out of their embrace. “Guess that includes leaving town without the whole world knowing about it.”
Jeena nodded, sudden weariness drawing her face into a tight honey-toned mask. “I wish returning my phone calls were one of those things that he could swing.”
Myrna masked her smile, knowing Jeena would take it as an insult. Word was—and speculation ran high toward that word being fact—that Jeena Stewart owed her fortune to the world’s oldest profession. There was nothing anyone could prove, however. Part of the reason for unsubstantiation lay in the fact that Jeena could claim clients for her so-called dating service at local and national government levels, or so it was rumored. Additionally, the woman ran her business like a...well...like a business, with salary and benefits for employees—female and male.
Myrna thought it was all absurd, hence her suppressed, knowing smile. “Guess we’re about ready to take off.” She noted the limo driver passing off her luggage to a member of the baggage staff. “Of course, we’re still one short.” She spared another glance across the tarmac.
Jeena rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
* * *
“Ah...dammit,” Alythia said in disgust.
She had hoped taking her car, as opposed to hiring a driver, might play into her excuse of bad traffic, which would have resulted in her missing out on the luxurious flight.
But to her dismay, she arrived at the airstrip to find the plane still waiting. A chorus of birds were chirping somewhere amid the late-morning air as if they meant to welcome her to fun and excitement. Alythia appreciated the welcome but all the while considered circling back to the interstate in hopes of getting caught up in a traffic jam—a tad unlikely at that time of day, but who knew? It all could work in her favor and she might get—
“Can I help you with those?”
Alythia turned, her jaw dropping while her eyes zoned out in a show of surprise.
“Lucky.” She breathed the completion of her thought aloud.
She wasn’t sure if the man who stood within touching distance had sparked such a reaction because of his height. She stood just shy of five-ten in her bare feet, but this guy had to be six-two at least. Sure, it could’ve been the height or the muscular build—more lean than massive. Alythia was more inclined to wager on the man’s remaining attributes.
Whoever he was, he had the most remarkable shade of skin, an unblemished tone of black coffee. The richness was offset by a long, steady brown gaze enhanced by overt gold flecks. His hair was straight textured and close-cropped. Thanks to the morning’s powerful sunrays, Alythia could tell that his hair was of the same deep brown as his eyes.
He was smiling and the curve of a beckoning sculpted mouth was made more attractive by the singular dimple accompanying it. Still, that stare of his was impossible to ignore and difficult to perceive as anything other than intensely observant. His gaze also lent a well-blended mixture of heat and cool to his smile.
“Are you okay?”
She heard him speaking to her, his smile carrying more heat when he leaned close to ask how she was. He extended a hand as if he meant to cup her elbow but barely let his thumb graze the bend of her arm.
Alythia ordered—no, begged—the sudden and completely uncharacteristic desire to moan to cease and desist with the pressure it applied to her larynx.
“I, um— I’m good,” she managed, and then followed up the lie with a laugh. “I was good before I got here and saw that my ride was kind enough not to leave without me.”
He roared into laughter, the sound causing Alythia to jump at the full honesty of it. Despite the contagious effect of the reaction, she winced when he looked her way.
“Sorry, I know I sound ungrateful,” she said.
Curiosity intermingled with his amusement. “Why do you think you’re ungrateful?”
“Most people dream of visiting the Caribbean.” She looked toward the jet once more. “Of those who have actually had those dreams come true, few get there on a private plane.”
“Um, could I take that stuff for you?” he inquired of her bags again before the dumbfounded amusement on his face started to make her feel uneasy.
“Sorry. Um...” Aly began to relinquish her bags. “Thanks for your help— Oh, wait.”
Easing the strap of a tan duffel over his shoulder, he watched her fumble through a plump midsize purse.
“Dammit...I knew I had a five or ten in here....”
“Hey.” He cupped her elbow that time. “There’s no need to tip me.”
Alythia blinked toward the plane. “I’m pretty sure you guys are way behind schedule because of me.”
“We’ll get there.” He voiced the soft reassurance while applying a light massage to the elbow he cupped. “They aren’t gonna leave without you.” He winced a little against the sun in his eyes when he glanced at the plane. “This is a vacation. No clocks. Say it. ‘No clocks.’”
“No
