Chapter 5

Five hours later, winging their way across the country to Aspen-the snowy playground for the wealthy - Tyson watched Bernadette sleep.

She was peaceful to look at it. She made something warm and cozy stir to life inside him, and though he wasn’t the sort to appreciate warm and cozy, where Birdie was concerned, he kind of was.

Two days ago, he’d have puked at his train of thought. Now, he was just confused.

“If you don’t fuck him, I’ll totally call in the dare pact.”

The words still had the power to confuse him.

Emily had hissed them at Bernadette when he’d been heading out of the small restroom just off her office.

That neither of them knew they’d been overheard was a given.

Emily was strong-arming Bernadette into sleeping with him. Him. Tyson Andrews.

What was that about?

They’d been friends. Nothing more. So why was she encouraging Birdie down a path that so obviously didn’t suit her?

Birdie wasn’t the one-night-stand sort. Not that she couldn’t be. She was sexy as fuck, after all. But it just wasn’t in her nature.

Nobody could change that much.

Sure, they’d lived half their lives apart, and all those years were when they'd been adults, but Tyson knew Birdie. Intrinsically. In a way that had always beggared belief.

It was one of the reasons why he’d never kept in touch. Not because he was a bastard, and not because he hadn’t missed the hell out of her, but because it had either been cut her out of his head completely, or pine away for her on the other side of the country.

Cutting her out had made sense all those years ago. Well, to a teenager's point of view, anyway.

He’d never intended on going to school on the West Coast. Had always been aiming for Columbia or Yale. Knowing she was a home bird and would stick to the city she’d been born and raised in,would only have added more pressure to their friendship if, even in college, they were a world apart.

How could a relationship be sustained over that kind of distance?

He hadn’t thought it was possible, so he’d cut ties.

Ties, he was regretting slashing as he watched her sleep, and felt a sense of peace in her presence.

She had dark shadows under her eyes, he noted; her thick and spiky lashes resting against the bruised smudges there. If that wasn't proof enough of her exhaustion, Em's concern had been telling - the relief that Birdie was going away had been palpable. The way she was sleeping was so deep that, though it was surprising to him, it spoke of a too busy way of life.

But then, Bernadette was a powerful businesswoman. So powerful, and so wealthy, that it was no wonder her private life was suffering as a result. Finding an equilibrium between work and play was always tough, but when you had a multi-million-dollar company to run, he assumed finding that balance was next to impossible.

The thought had him sighing as he took a quick look around - they'd been waiting for the next flight for a good few hours, and had only boarded forty minutes ago. Regardless of the late hour, the first-class cabin wasn’t empty, and unlike Bernadette, most of the people sharing the luxurious space with him were awake. He’d been on the receiving end of a couple of looks from the stewardesses and a few of the passengers too. He’d ignored them all, preferring to watch Birdie sleep.

He knew it was an invasion of privacy, but he’d never thought to see her again, and yet, here she was. In his space. So close to him he could smell the lavender notes in her perfume. So near, wisps of her feathery hair clung to his suit jacket.

If she fell any deeper asleep, he had no doubt she’d eventually rest her head on his shoulder, and it stunned him how badly he wanted that.

Gnawing at his lip, he raised his hand for the steward.

“Whisky on the rocks,” he ordered in a soft voice, ignoring the blatant come on in the woman’s look. He wasn’t interested. Not one bit of him was.

His entire focus was on the woman dozing at his side.

Truth was, this little jaunt was going to cost him a bomb. And it was worth every fucking penny.

He could justify some of the trip as an expense. But first-class tickets? The whole rigmarole he intended on going through with Bernadette? Nah. It was going to cost him a cool ten grand. Minimum. Especially if Bernadette decided not to do business with Hedonist Central.

If she did, and with a generous contract, then Gill would more than likely scrap the entire trip as an expense. A mediocre contract would incur Tyson some cost. But no contract? Yeah, his wallet wouldn’t be happy.

But he could afford it, and the urge had been nagging at him all day… letting her go wasn’t something he could do.

Not again.

When breakfast had turned to brunch, and brunch morphed into lunch, and he’d still had no desire to let her go, he’d known he was in trouble.

Spending the next few days with her was going to be… he wasn’t sure what.

Interesting?

He just regretted the fact he hadn’t been able to break things off with Karen.

Though he’d love to help Birdie with her challenge from Em, he couldn’t do so in good conscience. Not with Karen hanging around his subconscious like a bad penny.

As the steward returned with a crystal tumbler, one he accepted with a tight smile of thanks, she did it. At last. Bernadette’s sleep reached that point where she finally slumped against him, her head finding a cushion against his side.

He let out a shuddery breath as he lifted his arm and carefully hooked it over her shoulder, so she could nestle deeper into him.

Jesus. That felt good.

And so fucking right that he swallowed the measure of whisky he’d just been served in one gulp.

It was going to be one helluva trip.