Xavier

I couldn’t believe how good she looked. Why the hell had I waited before? I must be stupid. Seriously.

Even though I was used to women tossing panties—women of all ages, I have to add—at me on a regular basis, I still couldn’t believe this woman was willing to take a chance with me.

And she was a fan. Which meant she probably had seen some of my shit choices in the past.

When she hugged me, the urge to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe nearly knocked me over. I think I covered it, but I’m not sure. I’m a Goddamned grown man! This is not supposed to be this hard.

She crosses her legs and runs her hand through her curly dark hair. I feel like this is a habit, maybe a nervous habit? I hope so. I hope I make her nervous. It’d be nice not to be the only one.

“Can I sit next to you?” I ask, hoping I don’t seem like a creeper.

“Sure,” her smile is nervous and something else. I hope it’s a good something else.

I sit down and feeling brave, I take her hand in mine. The cabin steward comes through.

“We’re taxiing shortly, Mr. Xavier,” he says. “Coffee for you ma’am?”

“That would be nice,” she smiles up at him. “You want something more? They can make the fancy shit,” I add.

“Café au lait?” She asks. “Is it too much to hope for Community coffee?”

“No, I’m sorry we don’t have that particular coffee, ma’am,” he smiles at her. It’s hard not to. Hers is infectious.

“We’ll get some, won’t we Byrnes?” I ask.

“Absolutely. We’ll have it on the trip back.”

He leaves the cabin.

“So explain your private timeshare jet,” Olivia turns to me.

“I know it’s seen as a joke, but having a private plane of any kind is expensive. These in particular,” I gestured to the plane. “So I was bitching about not wanting to fly commercial because you can’t get any privacy, and eventually, a couple of guys decided to go in on one together. We bought it used, and we share the expenses. None of them are asses, so it’s pretty easy with scheduling.” I shrug, but I’m lucky. I work with decent guys. Not everyone in my business is decent.

“That’s a good way to do it. My momma would approve.”

“Is she thrifty?”

“She loves to shop, and as I told you, loves her Liz spa, but she loves a bargain, and hates to pay full price for anything.”

“Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to blow it. So many guys in my industry don’t manage their shit well or have crews that help them spend all their money, and then they have to tour just to make the mortgage.”

Olivia nodded. “You need to have people you trust to tell you, No, to give you a budget.”

“Remember Hammer? That’s what happened to him. Too many moochers, all encouraging him to spend, and no one on his ass about saving.”

“I don’t think it’s only your industry,” she said, sadness coming across her face. “That is one of the problems Royce and I had. I made all the money, and he wanted to spend all of it.”

“That’s a recipe for divorce,” I said. I got that. My exes—all of them—had the same problem.

“I didn’t think so.” Olivia’s voice was small.

I leaned in to look at her. “Are you okay with this? I know it seems kind of soon.”

She turned then, and her dark eyes looked at me, and I couldn’t see any lies in them. “It is soon, but that’s okay. It’s weird— the things I think are going to bother me about getting divorced aren’t bothering me at all, and the things that I don’t even think of pop up and hit me in a soft spot.”

“It’ll be okay, promise.”

Her mouth twisted, and I forgot everything for a moment as I focused on her lips.

“Sure it will. My ex is being bitter. It will be better when the legal wrangling is over.”

“Trust me, toss enough lawyers at a problem, and things get better.”

“Spoken from experience?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. I have a lot of practice in protecting myself from those who would leave my ass in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere.”

She laughed, and the mood lightened.

“Let’s talk about something else. I remember reading that you had a good friend you grew up with—was that the one whose wedding you just went to?”

I nodded. “Tibby. She’s great. We’ve been friends since elementary school.”

The memory returned. I had just moved with my mom. It was the most recent school for me. We usually moved two or three times a year, depending on how many times Mom got evicted. Or broke up with her boyfriend. Or whatever.

I went to lunch with the rest of the class. I didn’t have a lunch because I’d been out of school for a while, and Mom wasn’t up to date with the school schedule yet. Not that there was a guarantee she’d ever get up to speed with the school schedule. But on this particular day, she’d forgotten to make me anything. That was assuming we had anything for lunch.

I sat at the end of the table, some of the other kids watching me and whispering. I could feel my face heat up, which meant it was turning red. Add that to my red hair, and I looked stupid.

Which I hated because that meant the name-calling of ‘tomato boy’ or something equally clever wasn’t far behind.

Someone slid in next to me. I didn’t want to look. I’d been in trouble for fighting at the last school when some of the boys in my class refused to leave me alone. I made them, but at a cost to me. So maybe if I ignored the person next to me, I’d be able to stay out of trouble. Mom beat me when I got into tro—

“You want half of my sandwich?” A small voice said next to me.

I snuck a look. A little blond girl, tiny, with an almost-smile, held out a sandwich.

“Sure,” I said.

“I forget my lunch sometimes, and I hate it. I guess you forgot yours too.” She smiled for real this time.

I ate the sandwich, and a friendship started that day. It was still the most significant relationship of my life.

“Tibby offered to share her lunch with me on my first day of school,” I said. “My mom forgot about things like lunches, so…” I stopped. I could feel the wash of bitter anger that thinking about my mom usually brought.

Olivia squeezed my hand. I’d forgotten that I had taken hers originally. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I had a great momma. I still do. But we lost my daddy early, and now I know Momma could have gone bad, real bad, after that. She didn’t.”

“She sounds great.”

“She doesn’t like you,” Olivia said in a rush. “I told her your legal name, but nothing else. So I hope she doesn’t google or anything. I’ll never hear the end of it.” She sighed.

I felt a hot stab of jealousy. I’d love for a mom to fuss at me. Without hitting me, or trying to put out cigarettes on me. But there was no place to say that kind of thing. Nor did I want to.

“Oh, no! Xavier, can I make a quick call? I need to check in real fast.”

‘Uh, sure.” I wasn’t sure whether I should be offended that she was checking in or not. It’s not like I wasn’t a completely public figure.

I stopped myself. I was used to women who couldn’t wait to be a part of my world. Olivia wasn’t like that. She was normal, even if she was a fan. I needed to chill out.

She pulled out her phone and hit a number.

“Hey, Momma. I’m on my way. I’ll call you when we get there, and give you the hotel info, okay?”

She listened for a moment, and I could hear the tones of someone who was giving a lecture. Those tones all sound alike.

“I will, Momma. Love you.” She ended the call and smiled at me.

“Better?”

“I know it’s a pain, but Momma is one of my best friends. It’s why I can work with her, as well as being related to her.”

“What do you do?” I asked curiously. She’d mentioned the business more than once, and the ex was trying to get a piece of it. It must be good.

“I’m a consultant.”

“What does that mean? I hear that all the time – consulting for what?”

“We do what you’d call PR or personal consulting. Helping people navigate sticky situations, or how to handle changing brands in business. With that, we’ll do a lot of market analysis, see what’s trending. Basically, we’re a personal advice company.”

“I’m not trying to be rude, but people actually pay for that?” It seemed a bit out there to me.

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. You’d be amazed at the people who don’t know how to handle their press, or worse, that screw it up every time they try to do anything.”

“So you work with all the Opry stars?” I teased.

“Some of them. Momma is an attorney, and she’s a specialist in contract law, so she will also go over contracts, suggest where things are not quite right, and I help people figure out what will and won’t work with their contracts. There’s pretty much no limits to the types of people that we see.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s interesting. I can see where that has a lot of possibilities.”

“No one thought we’d make a go of it, but there are tons of people who are just desperate for advice and to be told what to do.” She grinned. “Momma and I are just the people to tell them.”

“Maybe I need to talk to you,” I joked.

“Oh, probably not. You don’t look the type to take anyone’s advice over your own.”

I leaned back a little, surprised. I hadn’t expected that.

“You’re right. How can you tell?”

“I size up potential clients all the time. Some people know but aren’t sure. Some are completely sure, even if they might not know the best way to get whatever it is they are trying to accomplish done.”

“Are you saying I’m overconfident?”

“Don’t you have to be in your business?”

She asked the question with complete seriousness, and no sarcasm or teasing.

“Well, yeah. I guess.” I looked towards the front of the cabin, thinking.

My train of thought faltered when Olivia laughed softly. “See? Not such a flighty business concept after all. But this is so serious! Let’s talk about something more fun.”

“Don’t you think business is fun?” I asked.

“I do, but I want to know you outside of the business you. What’s your favorite thing to do?”

I hadn’t been asked that in a long time. I’d been in the public eye long enough that no one asked me anymore.

“Walk down the street unrecognized.”

“Does that happen often?”

“You didn’t recognize me on the plane,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I failed the super fan test. I was far too preoccupied with my own stuff.”

“Well, I am glad you made time for me,” I said, my voice going husky.

The way she looked up at me made me act without thinking. I leaned in and touched my lips to hers. Tentatively, hesitantly.

I surprised her because she didn’t react right away. Then she kissed me back.

I thought my head might actually explode, and my dick woke up, wondering what the hell was going on.

With one hand I pulled her in closer to me, loving the feel of my hand in her hair. Then the other hand snaked around so that I cradled her head.

She wrapped her arms around me, scooting closer.

Swiftly, I stood a little and pulled her up and into my lap. I caught a flash of her eyes. Then I kissed her again and forgot everything else.

Every instinct in me said to take her to the back and take her clothes off, piece by piece. Spend the rest of the flight getting to know her body, every inch of it. In detail. Until she sobbed my name with a voice hoarse from crying it out.

The image was so strong it left me weak.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt desire this strong for anyone.

I might have been able to control my raging libido but for one thing.

Olivia gently bit my bottom lip.

Olivia

Oh my God. OmyGodohmyGodohmyGod. Everywhere his hands touched me, and they hadn’t even gone below my neck, my skin exploded. Or felt like it did.

I couldn’t get close enough to him, so I wanted to weep in relief when he picked me up from the chair and settled me in his lap. I could feel his hardness beneath me, and it excited me. A lot.

Basic desire and instinct for a strong man warred with my thirty-one years of being a proper young lady. I wanted to rip his clothes off and spend the rest of the flight naked.

But instinct aside, women who did that often ended up being the woman of the week. I know I’d thought I’d be okay with just that, but now, in his arms. I didn’t feel so sure.

He made a small sound in his throat, and I felt the answering wetness between my legs. Oh my God. This man hit every good thing I’d ever even thought about physically.

I bit down on his lip.

If I’d thought he’d been passionate before, I’d thought wrong.

No sooner than had my teeth closed onto that full bottom lip, he lifted me up from his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

In answer, I twined my legs around his hips, not wanting to lose the delicious feel of him between my legs.

I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted sex so badly it hurt.

But it hurt right now.

“Oh God, woman…” he murmured against my lips. He walked a few steps holding me. We ended up next to the wall of the passenger cabin, and he propped me against it, taking the opportunity to grind himself into me.

I wanted to cry, it was so good.

“We…” I started.

“Are not going to make it a week,” He finished.

Well, not quite what I’d been planning to say. But it would do.

He leaned away from me with a sigh.

“Much as I want to, and holy shit, you have no idea how much I want to—”

“Oh, I think I might,” I said, gazing at him from under my lashes.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’m not going to do this on a plane. Where we’re on full display. Think you can contain yourself?” He let me slide down the wall until my feet rest on the floor.

“It’s hard for me, such a good boy, to deal with this,” he said in an aggrieved tone.

“Oh, stop it,” I rolled my eyes.

“I am right now,” his voice dropped to a whisper that went right through me. “But only for right now.”

He led me back to the seat—the scene of the crime, as it were.

“Well,” I said. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Disappointed?” He asked.

“Only in that we’re sitting down again.” Another from-under-the-lash look from me.

His nostrils flared. “Patience.”

“Oh, one of your strong suits, is it?”

A bark of laughter greeted my comment. “Not at all. But I get the feeling, Ms. Olivia, you are worth the wait. Any wait.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.

“That feeling is mutual, Xavier,” I said.

At that moment, the steward came back in.

Oh, that’s right. We’d ordered coffee. Maybe he had delayed…oh God. No wonder Xavier stopped. Because we were on a plane, and if the steward had waited for us to finish whatever we were doing, it meant that we were monitored.

I could feel the blood in my cheeks. I hadn’t felt the heat from a blush like this in a long time.

How embarrassing. Not that I was with Xavier, nor even that I might only be his young lady for a week or so; no, it was that we weren’t alone.

We both sat silently as Byrnes served the coffee, and then he took himself from the cabin, almost like a ghost.

“That’s what you meant by not being on display,” I said.

I couldn’t look at him.

I felt his fingers lift my chin up and he was right there, putting a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’m sorry. I’m used to it. I’ve forgotten how hard it can be at first.”

“How do you get used to this?” I kept thinking how we must have looked, panting and tangled together against the wall.

He shrugged. “It takes time. And you learn that everything you ever knew about privacy is something you have to relearn. Whether you like it or not. That’s why most people only date others in the biz.”

“Is that where you normally meet women?” I was curious.

“Usually. The women I come across know the deal.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling uncomfortable. I wasn’t naïve, but I don’t know that I could be termed as ‘knowing the deal.’

“Hey,” Xavier leaned over and turned my face toward his. “I’m glad you’re not in the biz. I like that you’re not.”

I smiled, feeling better.

His confidence was compelling.

Xavier

I looked into her eyes, seeing the confusion and the insecurity fading. Good. That’s what I wanted to see.

Didn’t I?

I didn’t like that I was questioning myself. Part of me felt like someone like this was too good to be true. And something else hung around the back of my consciousness, wanting to be recognized, but it was slippery, and I couldn’t get a grasp on it. There was something about Olivia, something that I knew, or ought to know. But I couldn’t get hold of it.

“Well, that’s good,” she said, with a smile that looked genuine. “I can’t change who I am any more than you can.”

I leaned back, letting go of her. “Who would want to change all this?” I asked sarcastically. At her look, I laughed.

“I’m astounded you and your big head fit through the plane door,” she said, laughing as well.

“I’m not a total ass. But always being confident is part of the job,” I said.

“What, you’re not always one hundred and fifty percent confident?” She teased.

“Not always, no. But I don’t let anyone else know that, so you need to keep your mouth shut,” I said, mock-frowning at her.

That only made her laugh more.

“I’ll keep your secret, I promise.”

The sight of her laughing stirred me again, making me want to say to hell with my conventions, and I leaned over and kissed her lightly. “Good.”

She reached up and stroked my cheek. “You know, I’m not normally—”

I held up a hand, stopping her. Then I put my hand on hers. “It’s fine. I’m not normally the type to invite strange chicks on my plane. It’s new for both of us.” As I spoke, I surprised myself with the realization that I was telling the truth. I wasn’t above inviting a woman up to my hotel, with no intentions beyond twenty-four hours in the future. But my plane—that was part of my life, my permanent personal life. I didn’t bring groupies on the plane. I normally didn’t invite anyone to the charity things I did, either. This was new for me.

She exhaled, obviously relieved. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who is in strange territory.”

“You’re not.” I kissed her again, and then sat back in my seat, reaching for my coffee. But I reached over with my free hand and twined my fingers with hers.

“It’s strange. I don’t really know you, but we’ve spent so much time texting, I feel like I do.”

I nodded as I took a sip. “I agree,” I said. “But let’s talk about something more fun.” I didn’t want to talk about whatever this was. Too many new things too fast. “What would you like to do in San Francisco?”

“I haven’t been. Usually, when I am in California, I’m in Los Angeles.”

“Do you have a lot of entertainment clients?” I asked.

She shook her head, smiling. “Now I’m not gonna tell you that,” she said. “I don’t talk about my clients.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Thirty-one,” she said.

I was surprised. She didn’t look very old, but she carried herself like someone a lot older. “When did you start the business? Or get married?” I asked before I could stop myself.

At that, she laughed. “Do you know the south at all? My momma wanted me to get married the moment I graduated, although I did notice that after Royce and I announced our engagement when I was still in college, she told me more than once I could wait,” Her brows furrowed as she stopped, thinking. Then it cleared, and she looked back up at me. “It’s amazing and pretty embarrassing, to see how many people really didn’t like your husband when your marriage finally breaks up.”

I shrugged, wanting to keep this light and not wanting her to focus on the douche. “Everyone hated my ex, too. Actually, most of my exes were disliked by the people around me.”

“Your friends?”

“My friends, my manager, my crew, everyone. I’ve always figured I was the one who had to put up with them, so the opinions of others didn’t count. But I have to admit, when Tibby doesn’t like the person I’m dating, I should just listen to her.” I sighed. Not that I would admit that to Tibby. I’d never hear the end of it.

Olivia smiled. “I feel the same way about Momma. I should, for the most part, just listen to her.”

“What’s that like, being best friends with your mom?” I asked.

“It’s not always easy. We’re both adults, and we’re partners, but she’s always my mom. Thank goodness she can put that aside when we work because it wouldn’t inspire a lot of confidence to have the person you hired be fussed at by her mother. So we have an agreement that we never disagree in front of clients, and we discuss all cases behind closed doors.”

“That sounds smart. But how did you decide to go into business?” She was young to have a business that her husband wanted to fight over. I’d have to ask Tibby or Bryant to look up her company, later sometime.

“I thought we were talking about what we were going to do in San Francisco,” she said with a smile.

“We are, but I’m a diverse conversationalist,” I said. Part of me, in spite of my nearly overwhelming desire for her, was nervous. I hadn’t checked her out. I didn’t Google her, or look her up, or set a PI into looking into her—what if she was a total flake? What if her ex wasn’t a douche, but running for his life? I actually felt a bead of sweat run down my back.

Even though I’d fired Preston, my nagging manager, I could hear his warnings in my head. Maybe he’d had more of a point than I gave him credit for. Which made no sense, as I didn’t care that there were rumors I was gay floating around. Why did I care about this all of a sudden?

Because I really liked her. I would be crushed if she was crazy pants. The thought made another bead of sweat slide down my back.

“Momma was looking for something else to do, as the main partner in her firm passed away, and she didn’t like the other two partners. I went to school for communications. Momma also had a client that could not get out of his own way, and she was telling me all about it one night because he’d called her at home. It came out of that,” she finished, waving a hand.

I could tell there was more, but she didn’t want to share. That was OK.

“Did your ex want to work with you?” I felt like I needed to know a little more of what might be going on with her divorce. If this thing with us kept going, I might end up being pulled into the court case. That kind of shit happened all the time. People saw my name and saw money, or influence, or something that would help whatever their agenda was. I was used to it. I didn’t want to interrogate her, but I wanted a little info so that I had something to give my PI.

She shook her head. “We asked him, well, I asked him. Momma said I could if I had to. He took a couple of days to think it over because he would have been helpful in setting up the logistics. He’s in IT,” she added, looking away.

I could tell she was somewhere else, but I found that I didn’t mind. I wanted to hear more about the ex, see if he really was a douche.

Olivia sighed. “He came back and said that he thought it wouldn’t be the best idea, all of us working together, that it would be too much family too close, and I accepted that. He told me later that he wasn’t sure we’d last, or that Momma and I would be successful. He was having doubts even then when we were already engaged!” Her voice rose a little.

Then she took a breath. “It was so kind of him, you know, to come to me later, and tell me he was ready to be involved. When I asked him why now, he was kind enough to share his earlier concerns.” She snorted. “He was so surprised when I told him no, thank you, that Momma and I were just fine.” She looked out the window, and then back at me. “I wonder if that’s where the first crack happened.” Her face looked sad, and for a moment, I could see what she would have looked like as a kid, vulnerable and worried.

Which made me want to beat the douche’s face in. Yeah, he was a douche. Even if she was a little off, his actions were that of a self-absorbed asshole. I knew one of those when I ran into them.

“The first crack happened when he didn’t believe in you at the beginning,” I said firmly. “Don’t blame yourself, Olivia,” I finished.

“Livvie,” she said.

“What?”

“My friends call me Livvie. I think you qualify as a friend,” she smiled shyly at me.

“Well thank you, Ms. Livvie,” I said, squeezing her hand. “So now that that’s out of the way, what can we do in San Fran?”