Kat woke up in a cold sweat despite the snoring human heater next to her. She’d been dreaming about work, showing up at the office to find it populated with nothing but Topher clones. Talk about a nightmare. But she wasn’t surprised she’d dreamed about it, given the emotional intensity of the day. She stirred, kicking the sheets off so she could feel the cool air of the room on her bare body. Cal seemed to sense her restlessness as he groped for her in his sleep. Kat caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, and he responded by gently stroking her cheek. He mumbled something that sounded like “Stay with me forever” before he returned to a deeper sleep, still cradling her cheek in his big hand.
Kat scooted a little closer to Cal, rolling onto her side so she could look at him, as if the planes of his handsome face weren’t already seared in her memory. She hadn’t meant to get attached. This was supposed to have been a one-time thing, a fling like she’d never had before. But now it was taking every ounce of her resolve to not wake him by taking him in her mouth and not stopping until he’d come to completion this time.
But she didn’t. She just kissed his chest and slipped out of the bed to get dressed, which she did hurriedly. The last thing she wanted was an awkward scene if he caught her sneaking out, which she most definitely was doing. Because she was a coward, a big fat chicken who couldn’t bear to say goodbye to possibly the sweetest, sexiest, most caring man she’d ever had the privilege to encounter.
She made it to the elevator before she started sobbing. Who knew you could fall in love in four days? Her best friend would tell her it was not love but just a crush, an infatuation because he was charming and had a beautiful cock. But Kat knew that this . . . this fling . . . they’d agreed on was much, much more.
She collapsed in the door and had to laugh at the state of her room. It was like her room was a physical manifestation of her mental state: a complete, utter wreck. She leaned back against the closed door and shut her eyes, letting the memories of the past week wash over her, though she pushed the niggling anxieties about her job and yesterday’s sheer craziness away. She’d unpack that mess when she unpacked her suitcase.
As for now, she was going to indulge in one last full Irish breakfast and then head to the airport.
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Breakfast didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it made her feel kind of sick, so she bided her time in the US Preclearance lounge, sulking and sipping on some truly excellent ginger ale. She was flipping through books on her e-reader, trying to find a thriller, something that maybe entailed a frustrated female business development specialist strangling a coworker who happened to be her ex-husband, and getting away with it, when a hand appeared in front of the screen.
She huffed out an impatient breath because Topher was the last person she wanted to see today, much less be stuck on a plane with for seven-plus hours. And then a realization hit her: she was officially frozen out of her accounts, and from her experience, people who got benched usually didn’t get back in the game. Plus, now that Topher was a senior vice president, she couldn’t report to him, because of nepotism rules. Therefore, Topher wasn’t her coworker, or her superior, or anything except a pain-in-the-posterior ex-husband. And as a pain-in-the-posterior ex, she didn’t owe him a thing.
“Go away, Topher,” she said, not raising her head to look at him or even to acknowledge him other than giving his intrusive hand a hard flick.
He snatched his hand away, so mission accomplished.
“Ow! What did you do that for, Kitten?”
She continued scrolling through the books and ignoring him while he loomed over her. He cleared his throat. He sat down next to her. He moved to the side of her. He moved across from her, and she still kept her attention on the glowing screen in front of her.
“Jesus Christ, Kat, look at me!”
Kat raised her head and shot him what her other coworkers called her Medusa Stare. He froze. They stared at each other for a few beats, and then Kat raised her eyebrows at him in silent question. She really didn’t care what he had to say, but she was enjoying seeing him squirm. And he was definitely squirming.
“Look, Kat, I think we might have been a little . . . unprofessional when we announced the restructuring.”
“We”? Who does this joker think he is? The king? Who is this “we”?
Kat thought of all the ways she could respond but ended up shrugging noncommittally and going back to her book.
“I mean it, Kitten.” The detested nickname got her to look up, and he quickly corrected his address. “Er, Kat. Let’s talk about this over dinner when we get in.”
“No.”
“Great. I knew—what?”
“I said no. We will not talk about this over dinner. I already have dinner plans.”
“Who the hell with? Don’t tell me it’s with that Hillbilly Harper guy?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, it’s not with Calhoun. He’s probably back in Atlanta already.” Kat’s voice stayed steady, but her stomach clenched as she spoke. Topher motioned for her to go on, and she gave him a deadly smile. “I’m meeting with your uncle Donald.”
All the blood drained from Topher’s face, leaving his spray tan looking like a coat of shoe polish over his skin. “You don’t need to meet with Uncle Donald. Your accounts are frozen.”
“Oh, this is purely a postmortem of the conference. Would you like me to tell him hello? Oh, wait—you talked to Donald yesterday morning when you orchestrated your little coup, didn’t you? You are one arrogant son of a bitch, Topher, but I don’t think you’re really dedicated enough to pull this off.”
“Kat, surely there’s no need—”
“Oh, hell yes, there’s a need, but I’m not discussing anything further, because I’m being audited, right? That means this is an active legal case. And—”
Kat’s tirade was interrupted by the desk attendant calling for the flight to board, and Kat had never been so pleased to sit in economy than she was that day. She walked down the aisle, looking for her seat, and saw a familiar face.
“Hello again,” she said pleasantly as she slid her tote under the seat.
The man clicked his pen. “Hello. It seems to be a small world on the airplane, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does.”
Kat settled in, fastened her seat belt, and did all the things one does when preparing for a long flight. She also felt like she was going to barf. She snagged the flight attendant, who refused to serve her, and then she was almost ready to cry. Feeling a growing sense of loss, she concentrated on her tablet, opening a game but not playing. Mr. PenClicker scratched answers down on his crossword, and a fellow two seats down was unwrapping lozenges and sniffling like it was going out of style.
“Folks, we’re waiting on a few people from connecting flights, but we should be on our way shortly.”
Kat sighed, impatient to get going. Not that she had anywhere to be, really. She didn’t lie to Topher about the dinner plans, but anxiety about the uncertainty of her new situation was beginning to outweigh any excitement. Coupled with her sense that she’d really, really screwed up with Cal, Kat was beginning to wish she had a sleeping pill to get her through the flight. Maybe she’d take a page from the Cal Harper playbook and drink herself into oblivion.
She sucked in a shuddering breath as she watched the last stragglers come onto the plane and mentally prepared herself to sit next to someone who was, hopefully, neither a pen clicker nor a sniffer.
“Excuse me, sir, my seat is right next to yours.”
Kat raised her head at the now-familiar deep voice, and Cal’s blue eyes blazed at her from the aisle.
“You were supposed to be on the nine o’clock to Atlanta.” Kat licked her lips, not quite convinced that he was really standing in the aisle with the Sniffler between them.
“I was. And then I realized I’d rather check out Boston.” He turned to the Sniffler. “I’m gonna need to get my ass in that seat, sir.”
And then Cal was sitting right there, looking at her. He stuck out his hand.
“Hello. I’m Calhoun Harper, and I’m up for anywhere, anytime, as long as I’m with you.”