Chapter Ten

Whitney heard the soft puff of air and opened her eyes to find Sam peacefully napping across from her. She’d hoped that if given the chance—seeing someone else taking time to breathe—he might, too.

And it worked.

Smiling smugly, she looked out the window to find a bed of clouds below her. Being as quiet as possible, she lifted her laptop out of her messenger bag and flipped up the table from the armrest of her seat.

She scanned through her emails, found nothing that looked urgent, and then opened up the file she’d been using to compile notes on the ride launch and the people involved. She was ready. Ready to earn this job.

Or rather, keep it. In three days, she’d gotten herself up to speed on the launch and the businesses and had fleshed out the cocktail party they were hosting tonight from a nice affair to one worthy of kicking off launch weekend. She had sent press releases, kicked up the marketing material with a rush print and managed to add some extra flair to the brunch before the test run. Sure, it was enough for three people to manage in such a short time, and yes, she had a nice bonus waiting for her at the end of the project, but really she had pushed to prove to herself that she still had it. And she did.

The only thing that gave her pause was the email she’d been bcc’d on from the test engineer. Sam hadn’t mentioned it, so she figured she didn’t need to run any defense on it, but something about it niggled. Not that she knew much about the mechanics of coasters. She liked them. She knew you usually went up a hill then down and let gravity do a lot of the work, but for the head engineer to make a point of bringing something up…it seemed odd that Sam hadn’t mentioned it. Sam who had his finger on every pulse beating in Ellis Industries.

Movement caught her eye and she saw the attendant, Midge, waving at her. Checking to see Sam still asleep she shifted her laptop, quietly got up, and moved in her direction.

“Is Mr. Ellis asleep?” Midge asked, her blue eyes the size of saucers.

Whitney nodded then had to swallow a laugh as the young woman’s eyes managed to grow even bigger.

“He’s never napped on a flight since he took over.” Midge looked from Whitney to Sam and back again.

“Then I would say he’s due, wouldn’t you?”

Midge snorted. “I’ve been telling Rhys the poor man is on the verge of collapsing for months, and he doesn’t listen to anyone.” She paused and gave a good once-over to Whitney. “Except you.”

Whitney straightened. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure you didn’t.” She rolled her eyes. “Now would you like a drink or a snack or something? We have Brodie whiskey or other spirits, if you’re interested.”

“Any type of juice would be great.”

“Cranberry, apple, or orange?”

“Cranberry.” Whitney accepted the glass, and the two women settled at a small table toward the cockpit.

“So how are you liking the job?” Midge asked.

Whitney smiled. “The past three days have been fantastic.”

Midge laughed. “I guess that’s saying something. I really couldn’t imagine a better company to work for or a better man.”

Ooh, info. If she was to succeed at both her job and figuring out the best result for the bet, she should grab intel when she could. “Do you know Sam well?”

Midge flipped her hand back and forth. “So-so. Mr. Ellis took over about a year ago after the tragic deaths, and I’ve watched him work himself almost into the grave to make sure everything is as his dad and brother would have done. I think he’s doing a fantastic job.”

“I think so, too, but then again…” Whitney shrugged. “Three days.”

Midge smiled and leaned back, looking into the cockpit. “Looks like we’re getting ready to make our descent.”

Whitney glanced out the window—nothing but clouds. “That was quick.”

“We have about another twenty minutes until we’re on the ground, but you should go get buckled in.”

Whitney chugged the juice and handed the glass to Midge. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Thanks for whatever you did to get Mr. Ellis to sleep.” She leaned closer. “You didn’t drug him, did you?”

“No.” Whitney held up her hand. “Scout’s honor.”

She made her way back to her seat and settled in, latching her seat belt and putting her computer and stuff back in the bag. The plane dropped a bit, and her ears popped. She stretched her jaw a few times to adapt to the change in altitude.

Whitney studied Sam. His face relaxed and peaceful despite the dark circles under his eyes. She tallied the differences between him and his twin. Not that they weren’t near identical, not that she’d studied Eli in any depth, but she could see the slight difference in cheekbones: Eli’s sharper while Sam’s were more rounded. There was a tiny scar in the corner of Sam’s left eye. She wanted to know about it. How did he get it? Had it hurt? Was it smooth to the touch?

Sighing, she leaned back and stared out the window. She didn’t need his life story. Nothing would come from learning it, but God, she would be stupid if she passed up any chance of spending some non-work time with the man who had her pulse leaping because of a simple little scar. Not to mention how wonderful his lips had felt in what had definitely been too short of a kiss.

Why shouldn’t I embrace the gift this bet is handing me?

She was a big girl. The worst that could have happened to her had. Already. She was divorced. She’d been through embarrassment and humiliation. She’d been broke, unemployed, and without a home for the past few months. She could handle a little heartbreak when the bet was done and they were back to being just employee and employer.

Two feet. I have this.

The tires bounced once, twice, and Sam’s eyes flew open.

Whitney smiled. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Sam’s gaze darted around, and he sat up in the seat. He ran both hands through his hair, which left strands sticking out at odd ends. She itched to fix them, but they were both buckled in. And it was work hours—no touching allowed. Then again, he’d almost kissed her in the conference room earlier. So. Much. Confusion. She slid her hands underneath her.

“What happened?” His voice was rough from sleep and did delicious things to her nerves.

“You napped.”

“I what?”

Whitney laughed. “You napped and, quite frankly, it wasn’t long enough, but I’ll take my wins where I can get them.”

“Your wins?” Sam narrowed his gaze.

“Let’s just say I didn’t really need to recharge and you most definitely did.”

He stared and then smiled. “Thank you.”

“Hey, the videos of you drooling and snoring are for my viewing pleasure only.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do not snore.”

“How do you know?” Whitney winked.

“’Cause no one has ever told me I do.”

Ugh, she did not want to think about Sam and other women. “Maybe your other women were too polite. I’m not going to blow smoke up your ass.”

He looked thoughtful. “Did I really snore?”

She shook her head. “No. Just thought you could use a little teasing in your life.”

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. She couldn’t look away from his serious gaze. “I think I need a lot more of Whitney in my life.”

Damn, why had he gone and said that? It didn’t matter if she’d been thinking it. It was when he seemed to be on the same page that things got harder to process.

She shrugged and broke eye contact. “Well, good thing you hired me then.”

Sam looked away and sighed. “Good thing.”

…

Sam adjusted his bow tie and then yanked down on his sleeves, making sure the ivy-leaf cufflinks his mother had given him were straight.

I took a nap.

He couldn’t believe he’d napped. Or that Whitney had engineered it.

Her concern was almost too much. He was able to go-go-go because it was just him being harmed. He knew he was hurting himself, only he didn’t know any other way. Any other way to prove his father’s words untrue. I can’t be called flighty if I have a singular focus. Can I?

But now Whitney was involved.

She’s been involved since the night I met her at Monsoon’s.

That wasn’t a lie, but now she was concerned about him. Concerned enough to trick him into a nap…and he’d napped. Not only because he’d been tired, but deep down because he’d known he was safe doing it. That in those brief minutes, Whitney had his back. He already trusted her.

Growling in frustration about the confusion between him and his colleague, he spun around and grabbed his wallet and phone off the desk.

Of course, she had his back. Wasn’t that why he’d hired her? Because his gut had said he could trust her. So basically, his gut had been proven true.

He knew it was more than that, but he didn’t know what to do with the knowledge. He didn’t know how to compartmentalize and not become flighty and distracted.

A knock sounded and he opened his door to reveal Whitney in a short purple dress. Her legs, which he had not had the pleasure of viewing yet, were shapely and tan, and the off-the-shoulder cut revealed a collarbone made exclusively for nibbling. Her hair was swept to the side and anchored by a jeweled clip.

“Hi.” She dropped her gaze and smoothed her hands down her dress.

He wanted to smooth his hands down her dress and then take off her dress and smooth his hands down her body. Good lord, that is so not in the realm of professional.

“You look stunning.”

Her gaze snapped up and she smiled that thousand-watt smile, and his stomach did flip-flops.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Shall we?” He motioned down the hallway and shut his door. Once inside the elevator he managed to wait all of two seconds before saying, “If I do not cross any of those lines we keep blurring tonight, you seriously owe me a damn Nobel prize.”

“For peacekeeping between an Ellis and a Winston?” She laughed and he could see the same desire he felt throughout his whole body reflected in her gaze.

The ride was fast, thank the lord, and he offered his elbow to her as the doors slid open. She slid her hand through the crook and together they walked down the long paneled hallway to the reception where the board members and higher-ups of Cape Stars were waiting.

“If you need anything, just mention sloths, and I will make sure to help.”

“Got it. Same for you, Mr. Papaya.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, than he turned them around the corner and into the fully glassed ballroom with views of Lake Erie beyond. The sun was setting, casting brilliant purple streaks through the sky, shades similar to Whitney’s dress.

“Sam!” Several voices boomed his name, and he gave Whitney’s hand a squeeze before dropping it and heading over to the group of board members. Whitney followed and after several back claps and handshakes, he introduced her.

Quite a few appraising glances were thrown her way and, as she spoke with each member, Sam fought the urge to declare she was hands-off. They were work partners right now and any sign of jealousy, especially since he’d never shown any type of strong emotion in the past year, would be a red flag on several levels.

“So Whitney, you excited for this coaster?”

“Well, Seth, I think excited is too mild of an adjective, but yes, I’m very much looking forward to seeing this incredible design in person and give my vocal cords a good workout.”

“Hey Sam, you should use that in the marketing materials. “Vocal cord workout guaranteed.”

Whitney laughed and immediately typed in a memo on her phone. “I’ll work some magic tonight, gentlemen.”

Sam watched Whitney charm her way through the reception. Meeting each board member as if they were old friends. She knew something about each of them and instantly had them on her side. She’d been right. They were totally eating out of her palm and asking for seconds.

In between groups, Sam tugged on Whitney’s hand, hidden in the folds of her skirt.

She stopped and met his gaze.

“In case I haven’t already mentioned it tonight, you’re freaking awesome. You are killing it with everyone, and your ideas and spins are perfection.”

A soft smile slid across her face. One he had seen that night in the woods. They were getting dangerously close to blurring the lines in the middle of a business cocktail party.

“Can we spend time together later? After this. As Sam and Whitney, not employees of Ellis Industries?”

She squeezed his hand. “I would love that.”

They parted ways, and he’d joined a group when the server came up to him and offered him an hors d’oeuvre. That had been the pattern all night. Normally, he forgot to eat at these things, so focused on making the rounds and showing everyone he was good and capable, that he was always missing a tray. But tonight it seemed like clockwork. Waiters were targeting him specifically. He snagged the salmon puff and glanced toward Whitney to find her staring and smiling.

He smiled back, and once again that danger sign was blinking. She was making sure he was eating. She’d made sure he took a nap.

Concern like that wasn’t something he had experienced since his mom died. He’d been an adult by then and had no serious girlfriends since and, with the deaths of Isaiah and his father, sleep and food and pretty much all the ways someone took care of themselves never seemed to make it on his to-do list.

So Whitney had put it on hers.